


the eye of the storm's in unsteady hands

by blue_roses



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance, Violence, i forgot to add that tag HOW, im bad at char tagging but this is a life is strange au, lance takes way too many showers considering theres a storm coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 48,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7615504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_roses/pseuds/blue_roses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s then when Lance sees white snow fall on Keith’s hair. They both look up at the same time, it's a bright day in August, and snow is falling around them. As if Altea is nature’s perfect snow globe, which would sound pretty if it wasn't so unsettling.<br/>Lance lets Keith light up near him, lets him brush snow out of his hair and watches him to look vulnerable and sharp at the same time. Something’s telling Lance they'll be together at the end of their small town world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. august is definitely hurricane season

**Author's Note:**

> this is a life is strange au inspired by velocesmells's art!! you should check it out her art is wonderful C: all trigger warnings are those that apply in life is strange, though for this chapter there's violence, implied drug use, and a lot of cursing, but i hope you enjoy my first voltron/multichap fic!!

  If there’s one thing Lance knows, it’s water. He was the best swimmer of his family, knew how to navigate the bayou like it was an extension of him. He knew Altea pretty well, too, oceanside kind of town that made a living off of its institutions. There was rain in both his worlds, and some storms too. But this, this is different. This is a goddamn hurricane, in  _ Altea _ . 

  He’s going towards the lighthouse, he thinks:  _ that’s where I’ll find---, that’s where I’ll find--  _ but the name never comes to mind. A part of him is confused, because he’s been good with names since he was a kid. But he’s going towards the lighthouse, and the thought repeats without any recollection of a name.  _ If it’s the lighthouse,  _ he thinks,  _ we can make it all okay _ .

  He doesn’t know who the “we” is, but he is  _ not  _ okay when he wakes up. In the middle of a lecture, Lance might fidget, space out, sure, but he’s never fallen asleep in class. Naturally, his stupid body makes it painfully obvious that he just woke up, flailing around and knocking half his stuff off of the desk. He hears laughter, vague mumbling, and wait is that a question for him? 

   “...since you are present with us now, would you like to tell us the process that led to the first self portraits?” Of course. He’s in Alfor’s class, Alfor who actually thinks he’s a decent student. Fuck. He knows this, he just needs a moment to think. Lance takes a deep breath, looks at Alfor, and attempts to focus. 

_ The Daguerreian Process _ , his brain helpfully supplies. 

  “Lighthouse,” Lance says, because clearly his mouth has other plans. He’s used to embarrassing himself, sure, but he actually  _ knew  _ this. And blew it. Lance looks down at his desk as Alfor asks someone else the question. He doesn’t want to think of names, but he knows they got it right. 

  “--don’t forget to submit your photos to the Everyday Heroes contest. I might be getting up there, but I know who hasn’t submitted. Don’t try and avoid looking at me.” Lance still looks down at the floor for a moment before looking around for a way to avoid his teacher. He walks to the smaller desk next to Alfor’s and gives his best smirk.

  “Girl are you the sun? Cause you’re making my body-”

  “I’ve been wondering, do you have  _ any  _ shame?” she’s smiling, but it’s slight. He can see the bags in her eyes, but he’s glad she can humor him. There’s a silent consensus that he isn’t serious and she’s never saying yes. She always looked down at her cross when Lance flirted, right before she said something that absolutely destroyed him. Though he certainly wouldn’t  _ mind _ being destroyed by her, in more ways than one, he kept that little bit to himself when his brain was working. 

    “Isn’t that part of my manly charm? Come on, I’ve seen those heated gazes, I know you feel it Allura.”

  “I grade your homework.” It’s a deadpan, it’s too bad deadpans rarely work on him. His grin widens, and he puts his hand to his heart.

  “Kinky,” he turns to see Alfor occupied with another student, “but seriously you okay?”

Allura sighs, “I’d be more worried about yourself.”  _ He’s heading towards the lighthouse there’s someone he has to find if they could run away if they could save the world he’d do whatever it takes-- _ “But I’ll be fine Lance. I have a lot of work to do, and my father’s got you in his sights. Have fun!” Her smile goes from serene to pure joy from his suffering. Goddamn. 

 Lance knows Alfor is a father, not just because his daughter is a student teacher who sits in on classes, but because he has the most disapproving dad look when he and Lance make eye contact. He immediately wants to look away, because focus problems aside, that gaze fucks him up a little. 

   “Uh,” Lance says, “can I just... notdothiswholecontestthing?” he’s running his thumbs over his hands. Today’s already been weird enough, he just wants to get on with it. Maybe go do something sort of decent to make up for everything that’s… not decent.

  “Why would you say that? I’ve seen your potential first hand, and you have a vision that the world deserves to see. I’ve seen the way you use that camera, this world is as yours as it’s ever going to be. Make the most of it Lance.”  Alfor smiles at the last part, and Lance’s grip on his camera bag tightens. It wasn’t his fault Lance can’t find the will to share his photos, all of them were just  _ bad _ . There’s no other way to slice it. 

     “...Thanks. I’ll see what I can do if I can take your daughter to dinner. Thooough, she’ll probably have to pay, you know, me being a starving artist and all.” He turns to Allura, and he knows one more step towards her means he’s a dead man. Maybe the whole flirting through her father thing wasn’t the best idea Lance ever had. 

    “Maybe if you get the reward for the contest, you can pay yourself,” Alfor smiles, ignoring Allura’s  _ Father!  _ Lance takes that as his cue to leave. He played it cool, sure, by making a complete fool of himself in more ways than usual. There aren’t many people Lance can consider talking to, and he needs somewhere to unwind. Where it’s maybe a bit quieter and he can rinse his face off. Water always calms him down. 

  He passes by the people talking, sees the posters on the bulletin board, the walls, the lockers. He stops for a moment. He thought they were for a Galra Club party, but they’re missing person’s posters. 

   “Takashi Shirogane,” Lance repeats, “feel like I’ve heard that somewhere. Hope it isn’t too serious.” He thinks about taking a poster from the wall, but whoever it was put a lot of work into it. Besides, Lance was good with faces, if he saw this guy, the first thing he’d say is that there’s clearly someone who cares for him. But for now, he’d rather wash his face when the bathroom isn’t absolutely crowded.

   For once in what’s probably an eternity, the bathroom is empty. Who’s ever seen a boy’s bathroom empty during passing period? No one that’s who. He just finishes washing his face right when he sees it. A blue butterfly, without a care in the world, flying in a school bathroom. Now if that wasn’t an opportunity if he saw one, the face washing can wait. 

  Lance tries, he really does, to be quiet. He mostly succeeds, with the exception of tripping over his own feet and grabbing onto the sink. Yet the butterfly stays, almost as if it’s waiting for him. Pfft. As if, that dream must have done a number on him. He might believe in God, and a little serendipity, but he’s usually had to make shit happen himself. His camera is already halfway in his hands before he has time to think of lighting. By the time he’s taking the shot, he realizes it’s more than fine. 

    But then he hears pacing. Pacing, with murmuring, the  _ I got this, I won’t let this get out of control, my family made this school, we can break it, I can break it.  _ Lance thinks about, in this order: anger management classes and wait what the hell that’s Thace. Then, someone else enters the boy’s bathroom.

 The first thing Lance notices is the red streak, and he might make fun of it for being emo in a different situation. He’s never gotten the appeal of it himself, but somehow it suits this stranger. He’s got some sort of necklace on, and a beanie that threatens to fall off his head.   Even he can tell this is not a good time to walk in, not without some sort of idea of what’s going on. He’ll look, and he’ll wait. 

   “What the hell do you want,” Thace says, though it comes off as more of a growl. If Lance can smell the nerves of this guy’s tone, so can Red Streak. Though Red Streak is quickly changed to Mullet, because that hair is a  _ travesty.  _ How can you have such nice looking hair and fuck it up like that?

   “Hope you checked if the area’s clean. Too late to do it now, so let’s talk. ” Mullet says. His arms are crossed over his chest for a moment, before he adjusts his beanie. Finally. 

   “I don’t have anything to give to you.” From the pacing and the lack of a large bag of cash, Thace wasn’t planning on handing the cash. Lance gives Mullet another once over. A tank with a goddamn  _ rainbow  _ with ripped black jeans, it’s a weird mix. But it works, especially with Mullet’s expression gives Thace a look that’s at least four kinds of threatening. Wouldn’t wanna be the guy on the other end of that.  

    “And I know you have money. Isn’t that how it goes? I name a price, you give me what I want. Sure it won’t be a problem, I’m pretty cheap.” Lance is good with faces, usually. But Mullet is either older, a dropout, or both. Though Lance did think Thace was a dropout as well, and with this day, anything could happen. 

  “You act like I have my family’s assets, I don’t.” Sounds cold enough but Mullet doesn’t seem to buy it. He laughs, and it’s bitter and cuts Lance in a way a stranger’s laugh shouldn’t. 

  “You want me to feel sorry for you? You’re nothing but a rich brat, pumping whatever garbage other kids from respectable families can get their hands on. Everyone knows your campaigning, military man father wants another war on drugs, wonder what  _ he’s  _ gonna do when the headlines hit.” Mullet digs something out of his pocket, looks like a phone. Tangible dirt. What some teachers wouldn’t  _ do  _ for this. 

   “Leave them the  _ fuck  _ out of this you rat. You know nothing, you hear me,  _ nothing! _ ” Thace pulls something out of his pocket, and Lance only figures out it’s a gun after Mullet starts talking. 

    “No fucking way, put that thing down before I--” Mullet reaches for the gun, Lance reaches for both of them, and Thace fires. 

      “ _ Stop! _ ” Lance yells, and he thinks, when his world goes black, and this could be both his and a stranger’s end.

  Lance wakes up about to slip into prayer. He blinks, once, twice, three times. He can’t bring himself to move, he’s in class and he does--wait  _ what _ . He can’t be in class, no, he saw Mullet get shot, hell, he might have gotten shot himself. But he’s in class now. Actually not making a scene so no one thinks he fell asleep.

_ Okay,  _ he thinks,  _ so this is either a dream, some afterlife shit, or I can rewind time.  _ If it’s a dream or some afterlife thing, it’ll end quickly, so anything goes. But then what about rewinding time? Lance looks around the class, everything seems the same. Same people, Allura still looks tired.  Alfor is talking about self portraits and didn’t he ask that question to Lance after he knocked everything off his desk? Wait. Maybe he actually has to make a scene. 

  He flails, and his body does the rest of the work. Kind of like dancing, except he’s actually good at dancing and he’s not that great and being fake startled and knocking down specific stuff. No, he had to knock down his camera. 

   “...since you are present with us now, would you like to tell us the process that led to the first self portraits?” Alfor says, in the same disappointed and expectant tone. Though he’s still panicking, Lance thinks he can properly answer this time. So he does.

_ The Daguerreian Process _ , his brain supplies.

“The Daguerreian Process,” Lance actually says. 

“Very good,” Alfor says, “would you like to elaborate?”

 “...uhh it was created in 1830?” Lance says, because he procrastinated on the history part of this class to watch King Kong. He can’t even say it was worth it.

 “Is that a question of an answer?” Alfor definitely asks that. 

 “Both?” Lance chuckles, and he can hear the similar gazes and laughter. Great. 

 Alfor sighs and shakes his head, “Can someone who is sure about their stuff answer?” Lance tunes out the voice quirks, but repeats the answer in his head. Hopefully it’ll stick through whatever he’s about to try. It takes him longer than it should, to focus on his extended hand and try to rewind time. 

   There’s a force rippling against him, pulling away from him as everything goes back. Alfor takes  backwards steps, whispers are heard in reverse, and his stuff is getting back on his desk. As soon as his camera returns to being on tact on his desk, the pain starts. A dull ache in the back of his head turns to pounding in the front. He reaches for his face, time is back to normal and his nose is bleeding. 

  “...since you are present with us now, would you like to tell us the process that led to the first self portraits?” Alfor says for the third time today. 

  “The Daguerreian Process,” Lance says, “it was created by Louis Daguerre, a French painter in the 1830s now can I  _ please  _ go to the nurse’s office or something my nose is literally bleeding.” It’s stopped already, but he does need to get to that bathroom. Class is about to end, and although he’d like to, he can’t talk to anyone. If Mullet is going to be in that bathroom, Lance can save him, being a human time machine and all. Side effects aside, this is  _ really  _ fucking cool. 

   “For that, you may go. You should all model Lance and read ahead. And since I’m sure he’ll continue to be your model when he submits his entry for the Everyday Heroes contest, isn’t that right?” Sure, role model who watches bad movies and somehow got the power to rewind time. Lance almost doesn’t hear the last part, he’s too busy shuffling his stuff while avoiding letting his bloodstained hand touch anything. He might be able to rewind time, but he can still be clean. 

   Lance stands up, trying not to seem too eager and still covering his nose, “Don’t worry, I’m on it, the world’s as mine as it’s ever going to be, right?”

   “You seem to have all the right answers, I wonder if today’s your lucky day.” Lance smiles, tries not to seem too excited. He does manage to send a wink to Allura, who just shakes her head. He’ll have to ask her what’s up another time. 

   “I guess it is,” Lance says,  _ and it’d be really lucky if I could save Mullet.  _

   It’s not much of a head start, Alfor usually lets everyone out a little late, but it helps. Lance can’t seem too giddy, can’t tell anyone. Except Hunk, maybe. But then he’d ask if Lance ate too much sugar or forgot to eat at all or something and he doesn’t want to worry his best friend before he has proof. Doesn’t want to seem too crazy until...he doesn’t know. For now, he’s gotta retrace his steps.

   He washes his hands and his face when he gets to the bathroom. Hopefully that doesn’t mess anything up. The butterfly comes right on time (and Lance totally laughs at what he did there), and Lance snaps a picture with a little more effort this time. Though just in case, he does pray to God, his mother, and his grandmother to be able to do something  _ good _ . 

  Lance hears the pacing, mumbling, and looks around. There’s a fire alarm near him, great, but he’s not sure he can punch the glass. He’s impulsive not stupid. 

    “You want me to feel sorry for you? You’re nothing but a rich brat, pumping whatever garbage other kids from respectable families can get their hands on…”  _ Fuck, fuck fuck.  _ Lance would be pacing himself if he wasn’t in a life or death situation. He looks along the walls, near the alarm and on the floor, a hammer.  _ Perfect!  _

   “Leave them the  _ fuck  _ out of this you rat. You know nothing, you hear me,  _ nothing! _ ” Lance takes the hammer, smashes through the glass, and pulls the lever down. The alarm sound is loud, annoying, and attention consuming. He hears running, turns to see Mullet still in the bathroom. If he was feeling flirty, Lance just might come up with a life saving pick up line. But that might require extra explaining, so he waits for Mullet to bolt out of the school, a colorful tattoo showing as his hoodie slips down. Lance swears he almost sees that blue butterfly inked on a stranger’s skin. 

    Lance tries to be discreet and leave the school acting clueless. All those thoughts go out the window when he sees Principal Iverson.  Everyone knew he was an asshole, he probably knew himself, subconsciously and all, but did that stop him? Of course it didn’t. 

  “What are you doing out so late? Didn’t you hear the alarm, unless you had something to do with it..” Iverson’s eyes narrowed. He’d been trying the whole tough on delinquency thing for a few months, even hired new security who would act more military. Lance hasn’t been good with authority since he was around six, and Iverson picked up on his differences like a shark smelling blood. 

  “Nope, I was heading to rest after a nosebleed.” Shit, he even sounded shifty to himself, Iverson’s probably having a field day. 

   “So you didn’t see  _ anything _ ?” Well, Lance could say Thace had a gun, which would either work extremely well or extremely poorly.  _ Or  _ he could try both. Being the rewind master and all. 

   “Thace had a gun, I saw him put it in his pocket while I was leaving.. That’s why I took so long, because I was terrified he’d hurt me.” Lance looks down,a sad look for extra effect. Because he  did see the gun, and he was scared, so maybe Iverson would see that and back off.

  “So, what reason do I have to believe you?”

  “I dunno, cause I  _ saw  _ it?” Wasn’t that like, an eyewitness report or something? He’d watched some Law and Order. That should definitely have merit, even if most authority figures distrusted him in real life. This was private school in the middle of nowhere, Iverson could cut him a little slack.

  Iverson, being the asshole he is, does not cut him a little slack. Or any slack, really, “And you’re the most unreliable eyewitness I could get. You’re a walking IEP, everyone in this place knows it. Come back if you have tangible proof, now get out with the rest of the students!” Lance  _ burns _ , he knows it shows. He knows he has an IEP better than anyone else, and Iverson doesn’t want to take anything he says seriously. Probably doesn’t even know what--no. He has to say something else, he has to rewind. 

  He thinks about closing his eyes while he does it, but he doesn’t want to slip too far. If there’s a semblance of control, he’ll take it. Though Lance wonders if he could create a time loop, now is probably not the best time to test that.

    “What are you doing out so late? Didn’t you hear the alarm, unless you had something to do with it..” Iverson says, and Lance says the nosebleed thing again. That isn’t the turning point of the conversation.

   “So you didn’t see  _ anything? _ ” Iverson asks. So if Lance lies, he’ll probably get caught. He doesn’t trust his mouth right now to tell a full lie, but he saw what telling him that Thace had a gun did. He might just have to play dumb. 

    “I saw someone with a red jacket with a gun, he was running, and I don’t remember much else but the red. May I leave now?” Lance laughs nervously, but not for the reason Iverson thinks. Keeping that a secret suits him just fine.

    “...not solid enough, but I figured as much. Go on.” Lance almost feels sorry for the guy, but that doesn’t stop him from leaving. Especially when he sees the new security looming behind  him. Nope, not something he wants to deal with. It takes a few minutes, but he’s able to check his phone.  _ Yea ofc i want to tell u guys whats up,  _ for a skype call with his family on Saturday.  _ Just ask her out Shay totally has a thing for u if we werent platonic 4 life id marry u bro _ to Hunk. Then he sees Pidge’s text about the flash drive,  _ im omw 2 get it dw _ . He puts his phone back into his pocket and walks down to his not quite home. 

  It takes Lance getting halfway to the dorm to be both relieved that Thace didn’t somehow find out what had happened and irritated because he’s pretty sure  _ Sendak  _ and his crew are camping in front of the dorm building. He pulls out his phone and starts texting before he gets there.

 

**You:** pidge, my bro, my buddy, my small friend do u have any dirt on sendak pls

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** feel down for supplying me w pb cookies?

**You:** i literally stress bake u know this whats the catch

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** havent figured it out yet 

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** just tell him ur getting smth of mine hell assume its a tazer lol

**You:** what the fuck did u do

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** u dont need 2 kno lmfao

**You:** u kno wat i learned today...dont trust anyone not even ur teeny friend

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** ur a shit excuse for a memer now get my damn flash drive thx   

 

It takes approximately thirty seconds for Sendak and his boys to move out of the way. Lance sees the face of a broken man when he mentions Pidge Gunderson, and honestly wonders if his friend is secretly a spy with amazing fighting skills. That would make a lot of sense. He opens the door to his room, where the flash drive should be in a nice open spot on his desk. It isn’t. Instead there’s a handwritten note where Pidge’s flash drive should be.

 

_ Hey Lance, dude, had to borrow your flash drive come to my room if u need it back -Rolo _

_ Well,  _ Lance thinks,  _ at least his girlfriend’s pretty.  _ Rolo was okay most of the time, everyone knows he smokes weed, and that he’ll try and scam you out of a couple of bucks to pay for the habit. Lance fell for the trick himself after flirting with his girlfriend Nyma, who proceeded to take his wallet and run with it. It took a little bit of brute force and some lock picking to get it back. Also threatening to flush Rolo’s stash down the toilet helped. All that aside, Rolo would probably give the flash drive back when Lance asks. He’s a strictly no hard feelings kind of guy. Nyma being one of the few exceptions to the rule. 

  Lance does not think this exception would apply, Lance also does not think a lot of things. Rolo opens the door, his eyes narrow when he sees Lance, and pushes to shut it again.

  “Hey man, what’s the deal I just came for the flash drive?” Rolo pushes the door further, as Lance pushes more of his body into the entrance.

  “Maybe you should have thought of that before you started sexting Nyma.”

  “Wait  _ what?  _ I didn’t do that! This has to be a misunderstanding I mean your girlfriend’s pretty and all but she only flirted with me to get money for you to smoke weed and honestly I think you should-- _ ouch! _ ” Rolo shoved Lance and slams the door in one motion. That was weird, there’s no way Rolo would get so riled up without some sort of proof, but Lance wasn’t the one who did any of that. 

    “I  _ didn’t  _ do that, we’ve been dating for years and all it takes is  _ Sendak  _ for you to say I’m cheating! With  _ Lance?  _ Why won’t you believe me?” Lance can hear Nyma’s voice from the hallway, maybe she can convince Rolo something isn’t right. 

     “I dunno, maybe because you’ve been evading my questions? If it wasn’t him, who the hell was it who sent those texts?” Yup that is not happening anytime soon. Even if he found proof Sendak was a lying asshole, his previous interactions didn’t do him any favors. Lance really does try not to smile when he thinks  _ time to rewind time,  _ but he’s still not over how cool it is. 

   Back to the shove and door slam, the conversation, Lance knocking on Rolo’s door. He’d have to go to Sendak’s room somehow, if he wasn’t already there. Lance goes through the halls and peeks into the bathroom to see if he’s there.

   “Man Sen’s been nuts ever since that Lance guy mentioned Pidge whatever his last name is. Was this about that party last spring?” 

    “Probably, though don’t ask about it he’ll fuckin’ stab your guts. His bloodthirsty scale’s on a 5.5 right now, let’s just piss and get him some beer. That might cool him off and convince him to come to his room so we can chill.” Lance has never been grateful for Sendak feeling bloodthirsty and broody in his  _ life _ , thank God for Pidge Gunderson. 

  Privacy was sacred in his house, it was rare for doors to have locks, or even be closed. The exceptions were always the basement and his parents’ room. Whenever he or any of his siblings got too rowdy, they’d confiscate the thing in question. Lance, being the wonderful older brother he is, learned how to pick his parent’s lock. He takes a bobby pin out of his pocket and gets to work on the door.

  Even though they all have the same rooms, Sendak’s screams  _ money _ . From expensive sports and photo equipment to the newest macbook. Lance isn’t even sure he’d seen it outside of advertisements, what the hell. Though the macbook might just be the key to figuring this out. He looks around, and right next to it there’s one of the missing person’s posters.

  “Takashi Shirogane again,” the scribbling and various insults in red marker say enough on their own, “sure must have been the talk of the town.” Vandalizing someone’s hard work was a dick move, but then Sendak was an asshole. Wouldn’t have taken much to get on his bad side, the Rolo situation is living proof.

 He turns back to the laptop and clicks to unlock it. Lance hopes there isn’t a password, and almost falls back in excitement when there actually isn’t. Is Sendak just selectively smart or is today really Lance’s lucky day? 

 Maybe Twitter has the answers, people always get aggressively personal on Twitter. He finds it in a private message thread, prints it, and puts it in his hands. He hopes Sendak’s selective intelligence wouldn’t get him caught. He makes sure to close and lock the door behind him. Dealing with Rolo directly still doesn’t seem like a good idea, and Lance knows there’s a window outside of Rolo’s room. If he and Nyma were still arguing, maybe he could hand it to her? 

   Lance scrolls through his phone, the only texts he’s getting are from Hunk. God, how is he gonna explain all this? He can’t just deny his best friend the truth, but at the same time there’s so much happening he’s not sure  _ how  _ he can explain it. He checks the text as he walks. 

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** lance hele p i just asked shay o tu for a date take me out of my misery

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** as in kill me beCAUSe it’s been read two mins ago and the Bubble

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** THE BUBBLE!!! ITS BEEN ON SINCE SHE READ IT HELP  ME

**You:** HUNK!!! homegirl thinks u like poop stars shes prolly trying to tell u date and time

**You:** be sides shes prolly tryna figure out how 2 get laid w/o her stick up the ass brother

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** i wish i could say you weren’t helping but

**You:** but?? im an amazing and awesome pal who speaks the truth??

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** nvm, but seriously thanks lance she’s still typing and i deided

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** *died   

**You:** bro u got this ilu bro id date u if we didnt kno each other since we were six

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** that was gay lance...do u need some water

**You:** one im bi two shut up ur about to catch

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** NO

**You:** THESE HANDS!!!  OR shays if u kno wat i mean ;))))

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** im not talking to u anymore ur dead 2 me

**You:** :,(

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** WAIT

**You:** WHAT

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** SHSHE SAID YEYES SHE WANTS ME TO BE HER BOyFIRENd

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** THE REASON SHSE TOOK SO LONG WAS CB SHE WAS SWUALig

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** *SQUEALING HOW1!! IS SHE!!! NOW MY GF LANNE

**You:** TALK TO UR GIRL!!! CALL HER UP ILL B HERE WHEN UR DONE GO!!!! BRO!!

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** IM ON IT BRO!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

  Lance reaches the window of Rolo’s room and sees Nyma’s back to it. Rolo is nowhere in sight, and Lance knocks once, twice, until Nyma turns around.

  “Lance? No offense but I’m not in the moo-” Tears are prickling her eyes, and Lance doesn’t think he’s even seen her this vulnerable before. It was kind of frightening.

  “Nope. Nooope. Take this,” he hands her the paper, “and show your boyfriend.” She takes a look at this, then glances at the door, and turns to smile at him. He’s half expecting her to flip him over again, but she just takes them.

   “Thank you Lance,” she says as she takes something off the desk with one hand, “here’s your flash drive.” She places it in his hands, and he quickly stuffs it in his pocket.    

 “Call me anytime if that boyfriend of yours is too stoned to read, I can show you what’s on this flash drive,” he winks of emphasis, and she shakes her head. Sendak was probably the only one who knew all that flash drive had were pirated movies and games. He checks his phone when he’s at a safe distance. Hunk is probably too focused on his girl to send more excited texts, so Lance goes to tell Pidge he’s got his flash drive.

**You:** got the drive fcking rolo borrowed it, where do u want to meet?

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** im at the parking lot rn

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** also how did sendak react 

**You:** apparently he’s still outside the dorms he looked like he shit his pants

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** lmao dude has no sense of humor

**You:** u would sell his soul for a corn chip ur just cruel man

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** ...ur right lol. btw i gotta tell u smth

**You:** what is it??

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** id rather say in person do you have time to stick around?

**You:** ya ofc anything for a friend are you okay?

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** yeah this is just..long overdue. anyways hurry tf up lance

**You:** on it.

 

  Lance should not be surprised when he almost ends up head first in another clusterfuck of a situation. Now, people might talk shit about Allura, assuming she’s just legacy and that she’s not that great. But that’s jealousy talking, and no one ever says it to her face. The new security chief seems to be the exception. 

  “Do you hear me? I  _ know  _ what they did to him, what you people did! You’re hiding something from me, and I’ll find out and get you out of this school.”

   “I have done nothing wrong. I know you’re grieving for your son, but taking it out on--” If this man knows Allura, he’d know she’s not one to take this lying down. But he’d also know that she’s shaking, and Lance has no idea why. This security chief has been known to be a bully, but this is different, this is personal.

   “You’re not getting away with this, I will find a way to…” and Lance stops listening and starts walking up. 

   “Hey man, I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t you have a job to do? Like, I don’t know, not harassing people?” Lance is totally tooting his own horn when he says, later, that he looked pretty cool. He stands in front of Allura, who he knows wants to say something but nothing comes out. It’s rare for her to be left speechless. 

   “This is not your concern, students don’t interfere with talks among faculty.” He glares at Lance and Allura, arms crossed. Lance can see a hand reaching for a billy club, he doesn’t make a move.

    “Oh so now you’re calling her faculty? Because this seems awfully personal, this school relies on arts and sciences, I don’t think harassing a student teacher is gonna earn you brownie points.” The chief uncrosses his arms and moves them away from the club, Lance makes a shooing motion.

    “I’ll be telling Principal Iverson about your behavior, so I’d watch it. Both of you.” The chief walks off with fluid steps into the main building. When he’s out of sight, Lance turns to check on Allura. 

   She’s staring at her cross necklace, which rests on her open palm. It’s as if she’s lost everything, she gives Lance the most tired smile when she looks up. Something says he can’t rewind to make the situation better.

  “Who was he to you?” Lance asks, he doesn’t reach to touch her. He isn’t sure how, even though she looks so alone. 

   “Someone who has an excuse to hate me because of his own failings.” Lance waits for clarification. He doesn’t get any. She just sighs, lets go of her cross necklace, and faces Lance with as much determination as she can probably muster. Her features are firm, but she has her arms crossed, gripping her sides as if she’d been shot. 

   “Hey, I know I’m a tool sometimes, but you can tell me what’s up if you want. That asshole seems persistent, and new from the shape of him.” Lance looks to see if anyone’s coming, only to turn and see Allura smiling.

   “It will be fine Lance, thank you. This is something I need to handle myself though, but I appreciate the sentiment.” She steps forward and reaches to squeeze his shoulders. The gesture is so genuine Lance can’t even flirt with her, and she’s walking away before he can even say a word. He doesn’t think he can come after her, though if he was asked for a reason, he wouldn’t be able to say why. He feels a need to know more before approaching her again, he knows the difference between coworkers having a squabble and something personal.

  For now though, he walks towards the parking garage. Pidge still has something to say to him, and he does want to know what that is. He’s never liked being left hanging. He gets there, Pidge is waiting, leaning against a car Lance is pretty sure is not actually his. 

   “Hey!” Lance says.

   “Took you long enough,” Pidge says, “let me guess, you failed at flirting?” 

   Lance jogs up to him, makes sure Pidge can see his pout clearly. He takes his place next to Pidge, also leaning against the car. Lance takes out a pack of gum and Pidge’s flash drive out of the same pocket. He hands the drive to Pidge, who puts it in his black holes of pockets. Lance doesn’t know how much can fit in there, he isn’t sure he wants to know.

  “So,” Pidge starts, smug smile forming on his face, “what did you think of Barbarella?”

   “I still hate you for that, it was so bad it was almost  _ good _ . Jane Fonda was hot though.” He could also use that weird sex machine, less so for its purpose and more to pretend he’s a fancy organist. Lance offers Pidge a piece of gum, who takes it. They’re almost chewing in tandem, similar to how they first met trying to cheat on the same test.

    Lance starts up again, “Though I know you asked if I liked Three Headed Shark better than Sharknado, and I’m saying Sharknado. There are more movies, plus it’s practically a shitty movie classic. Like, the Star Wars of bad movies.”

   Pidge shakes his head, “Don’t the prequels count more as the Star Wars of bad movies, because they’re actually part of the franchise?” Lance is chewing with his mouth open, and Pidge takes one look at him and turns away in disgust. 

   “The prequels weren’t  _ that  _  bad.” Compared to Sharknado? No way, those actually had some semblance of a plot. 

    “Really?” Pidge asks. Lance looks at him. He looks at Lance.

    “Ugh you’re right…” Lance sighs before spitting out his gum and wrapping it in a tissue. He let’s a little  _ yes!  _ Come out when he manages to throw the wrapped gum in the trash. He can feel Pidge shaking his head behind him. 

    “Well, I guess I should tell you...uh….”

    “ _ You  _ were the one following me!” Lance turns to see Thace, red in the face and probably still packing heat. He could rewind and tell Pidge, but even then he’d probably try and do something and Lance doesn’t think that’s such a good idea. In fact, he’s thinking so much too fast that he doesn’t notice Thace coming up to him until he’s inches away from Lance’s face.

   “I don’t understand? I wasn’t following you.”  _ I just happened to be in the bathroom while you waved a gun around does that count?  _ Lance takes a step back, Thace takes a step forward. Pidge is just, looking for something? Oh no, if there’s one thing Lance is doing, it’s not letting his friend get into trouble. He’s great at drawing attention to himself after all. 

    “Thace, before you start waving your fists around, how about you just, you know,  _ don’t  _ do that? You see I have a pretty nice face my family always says so and really? Do you want to pay my medical bills? Because Iverson or the security chief could just stroll on along here and see you threatening violence on me or worse, my lovely small friend. Look at Pidge Gunderson and tell me you want to punch him in the face. Now, how about we take a deep breath and just...” Every step Lance takes back Thace takes forward, he’s babbling at this point which is great because his mind’s going haywire and that truck is coming awfully close wait what the truck is coming Thace is screaming, Pidge is screaming and Lance is definitely--

  “Get  _ in  _ already!” a voice shouts, Lance hears the door opening and really should have thought about whose truck he was getting into. He doesn’t, and he turns from seeing Pidge gaping and Thace on the floor to see Mullet driving a truck. Did he find out Lance saved him, or what he could rewind time oh my God Lance really needs to go to church more often because--

 Lance buckles his seatbelt out of habit, notices Mullet doesn’t do the same. Probably the type to rode a bike without a helmet too, kind of like...Lance sighs. His face is similar now that he looks closely, and so is that casual recklessness to the friend he met every summer he spent in Altea. But when he left Keith seemed happy, and Lance couldn’t be happy for it. He was an asshole for it, but Lance never wanted to be weak in front of his friend’s eyes. When the summer sun hit them both, Lance was almost invincible, and that was what Keith knew him for. And how could he let anyone down by showing them who he really was? 

“You’re lucky I don’t punch you in the face,” Mullet says, “no, hey, long time no see! You’re looking at me like I’m a goddamn ghost.” He makes a sharp right turn, Lance is surprised he doesn’t ask where they’re going. But really, this asshole is just acting like he knows him all of the sudden, way to treat the guy who saved his life. 

 “What why wo--” Lance starts, and then he looks at Mullet. Everything comes crashing down, including Lance’s own stupidity, “Wait  _ Keith? _ ”

  “Yup, that’s me. Nice to see you too Lance.” This is the day Lance got time powers, and the fact that his childhood friend has the same mullet but a completely different look is somehow the most surprising thing that’s happened. 

  “Yeah, so, where are we headed? I’m pretty sure this isn’t the Kogane house.” The Koganes had a white picket fence sort of house, the place of dreams. Lance spent more time there than in the places he was supposed to, it had always been a second home to him. 

   “They’re dead.” Keith says, it’s blunt in all the wrong ways. Lance feels himself shrink into the seat. Though he probably would have made it worse, he wishes he could have seen what had happened if he tried. Now he has no idea what to do, all his words will probably come out hollow.

   “I’m sorry,” Lance says, without thinking, “are we going to your place now?” He drums his hands against his legs, trying to be quiet. Keith never liked loud noises, Lance would like to do him the courtesy of being a little less loud. 

   “Yeah, it’s not the perfect house you’re used to, but I don’t think you want to be at the dorms right now.” Another turn, Lance doesn’t register which direction. Wherever this place is, it must be far. 

   “You’re right, guess I flirted with the wrong somebody, you remember me being a Casanova in the making, and I improved with age.” Keith probably can’t see the eyebrow waggle and the smile on his face, Lance does it anyways. 

    “That was never true though?” Keith says, and it comes more like a question even though it’s really a statement. His eyebrows are quirked, and Lance just gapes for a bit before Keith smiles. It’s sharper and a little crueler than Lance imagined, but somehow it makes him remember the past. Nostalgia might be a liar but goddamn it knows good imagery. 

   Keith pulls in moments afterwards, and Lance hops out with is stuff. He expects an apartment complex, he gets an isolated shed. Or shack, Lance doesn’t know the difference that well if he’s being honest with himself. Keith takes keys to unlock a series of locks. When he opens the door, he gestures to come in. Lance follows, and this time what he sees doesn’t surprise him.

  Keith has always been light on the material possessions. Constantly moving around meant taking what he can carry. There was plenty of space even for such a small place, and the first thing Lance notices is the small radio on the floor.

  “Can I?” Lance asks. Keith is lighting up a cigarette, something that Lance wouldn’t see him doing. But things have changed, so Lance turns on the top forty while Keith blows out smoke. Lance sees art out of rings, and before he knows it, he takes a picture. Which turns to two, and three. The radio is drowning out the shutter noise, which Lance is grateful for because he doesn’t quite want Keith to notice. He seems like he’s in a better place, sitting and smoking. Lance doesn’t want to take that away from him, and he has always wanted to take more candids. They remind him of home, during a better time. The peace doesn’t laugh, as soon as the song turns to radio host voices, Keith turns and sees Lance, taking photos. He doesn’t even have to say anything, Lance is already sticking them in his journal, which is in his bag, and Keith is  _ lunging  _ at him. 

  “Get  _ rid  _ of those asshole!”  Lance slides his camera away just as Keith tries to grab it. 

  “Come on, they look  _ good _ , let a starving artist live a little!” Keith is literally on top of him grasping at Lance’s thing, and he probably realizes this around the same time Lance does because everything stills. Keith doesn’t say a word, and Lance can’t really look at his long lost best friend almost straddling him. He does the next best thing and looks at his long lost best friend’s stuff.

Keith has some random books, a makeshift table (with flat tires as legs) and a mini fridge with a power source Lance can’t see. There’s a lamp on the floor, a crate of things under a bed, and some papers on the table. He’s pretty sure Keith hasn’t been doing any homework, so he doesn’t know what those could possibly be. Conspiracy theory papers? Gay erotica? Who knows, because Lance sure doesn’t.

   “Uh,” Lance asks, “you’re kind of getting heavy here. Planning on getting off?” Oh god he did  _ not  _ just say that. Most of his double meanings were intentional, but that just came out. God  _ damn  _ it. He’d reach a hand just to rewind and maybe not fuck that up, but Keith’s grip is obnoxiously strong and there’s no way Lance can explain  _ hey Keith buddy I know it’s been a while but I rewound time so you could be here today cut me a little slack?  _

  Keith does, in fact, cut Lance a little slack. His grip loosens, and he looks at the pile of stuff Lance slid into a corner. Lance looks at the unknown papers on the table, no  _ way  _ Keith is holding his stuff hostage. When Keith runs for Lance’s stuff, Lance runs for the papers. They both turn to each other, Keith holding up Lance’s bag, Lance holding the papers. 

_ Well shit,  _ Lance thinks,  _ Takashi Shirogane again _ . Keith drops Lance’s bag in an instant, Lance sets the posters back on the table. 

  “Did you know him?” Lance asks, as if it wasn’t already obvious. 

   “Yeah,” Keith says, “he was...everything.” He looks down, and his hoodie slips off his shoulders. Keith doesn’t sink to the floor, but Lance thinks he might if he was alone. There isn’t a blue butterfly there, but he does see blue in the same shade. It’s strange how the red rose with green and black and blue tangled with it is so similar to the person it planted itself on. 

  Hell, the moment might have ended up more poetic if not for the loud knocking on the door. Keith jolts up, pacing to Lance with narrowed eyes, he grabs Lance’s arm and moves him away from the table. He then moves the table, takes another key out and holy shit is that a trap door? 

  “Hide,” Keith says. 

  “Fine,” Lance says, “but you’re explaining this later.”  Keith gives a small smile as Lance climbs into a tiny room underneath a shed. It’s all darkness when the door’s shut, but Lance isn’t afraid. The dark was comforting, let him focus on sleep and calm sometimes, or in this case listening to whatever the hell is going on. 

  “What do you want?” Keith seems hostile, genuinely hostile. The kind Lance wouldn’t have been surprised if it was thrown at him, but it wasn’t. Whoever this person is must be a real tool.

  “I want you to stop with this charade. The posters need to be taken down.” Wait. This voice was familiar. Lance doesn’t know if he heard it today or last week, but it was sometime recently. 

  “What? Finally stopped giving a shit about your son?” Lance can hear the spit that comes out of Keith’s words, though he’s sure Keith didn’t actually spit. 

   “You of all people don’t  _ get  _ to talk about my son. You were nothing but trouble, he had a future, but he pissed it down the train to take care of a goddamn foster kid. He would have  _ never  _ disappeared on his own if it wasn’t for you.” Oh hell no. Lance is pretty sure the trap door didn’t have a lock on the outside, but he could rewind and set that asshole straight. He extends his hand, takes a deep breath and...hears a loud slam.

   “Get the  _ fuck  _ out of here asshole! You don’t get to speak about Shiro like you cared for him when all you wanted was someone like you!” Lance hears more shouting, doors locking, and waits. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five Mississippi, six Mississippi. The table’s moved, and Lance sees light, and Keith looking pissed as hell. 

  “We have to go,” Keith says, “he can't legally arrest me but he’ll find a way to get in here again.” Lance nods, takes his stuff in a bag. He has questions but half the impulse control not to ask them, he keeps himself moving to occupy his mind. He gets to the truck before Keith and circles it a few times before the doors are unlocked.

  “Where are we going?” Lance asks, he straps himself in, and before Keith can say no he does the same for him. Keith gives him a look but doesn't unbuckle the seatbelt. Instead he settles for starting the engine.

  “Where do you think?” Keith asks, it's genuine and only a bit harsh. It's nice to know his nostalgia wasn't 100% lying.

_ The lighthouse,  _ his brain helpfully supplies.

  “The lighthouse,” Lance says, and Keith’s eyes widen a bit before going back to normal. Lance doesn't catch the murmur under Keith’s breath, and he doesn't think he'll get an answer if he asks. He just looks out the window, says it’s for caution but really it’s for looking around. He recognizes the places he and Keith conquered with makeshift flags, and dirt mounds. Lance would take photos, the more than occasional polaroid selfie. Keith never liked his picture taken, but the one time he smiled in a photo Lance framed it in his room. But that is back in the past, Lance is reminded of that when Keith pulls in near the lighthouse. 

  “Let’s walk,” Keith says. 

  “Okay,” Lance replies. 

  They’re quiet for a few seconds, but they both probably know Lance can’t shut up for long. Lance ignores any looks Keith might be giving him and begins to talk. 

  “Sooo, you still fond of the ocean view?” Lance gestures towards the water, it was better in the summer sure, but the ocean is always nice to look at.

   “That was more your thing not mine.” Keith is right, but Lance swears he liked it too. Keith didn't go out of his way for things he didn't like, and Lance is pretty sure that hasn't changed.

“Oh come on! You liked it too, you were just jealous I knew more about water.” Lance smiles as he puffs his chest, which gets him later as he almost trips on a rock. Real smooth.

    “Yeah, sure, because I had a fighting chance against a boy from the bayou.” Keith says it without any resentment, or condescending looks. Lance is glad that part of him hasn't changed, but that doesn't mean he isn't gonna make fun of Keith for it. It's for the sake of  _ bonding. _

    “So you  _ were  _ jealous!” Lance grins and waggles his eyebrows at Keith. 

    “Shut up.” It's probably meant to stop the conversation and actually get Lance to shut up, it doesn't work. Lance bursts into laughter, almost keeling over. Hearing Keith’s squawk of indignation only makes Lance laugh harder.

  “Anyways,” Lance draws out the word, “I wanted to say thanks. For you know, doing these things. It's nice to know parts of my second home are intact.” What is he even saying? Just because he laughed and just had a lot happen doesn't mean he needs to get sappy. His mouth however, had other plans, the traitor.

  “This was your second home?” Keith’s voice sounds confused, Lance doesn’t get why. Wasn’t all that a given? 

  “Yeah, and I think it can be again.” Lance gets himself ahead of Keith, a part of him doesn’t want Keith to see his face right now. 

   “Oh. Then what happened last time?” The harshness returns to Keith’s voice, and Lance probably, no definitely deserves it. He went MIA to someone he considered his friend, and comes back five years later without any real explanation. 

  “Duty called,” Lance says. Keith doesn’t press further, Lance doesn’t elaborate. Neither of them are eager to fill the silence, so Keith probably doesn’t react when Lance stills. The rest? Lance can’t tell, his world goes dark before he hears Keith say a word. 

 If there’s one thing Lance knows, it’s water. He wakes up in the same Altean hurricane, in the same point as last time. He’s alone and terrified. This water creeps below his skin and reminds him he isn’t safe, but that doesn’t stop Lance from moving. He’s got to get to the lighthouse, that might explain something. Maybe everything if he’s lucky. There’s debris this time, to avoid. Something comes at him on his left side and he collapses. Bleeding out and dying in a dream, he takes out his hand and rewinds. 

  Next time, he dodges. He rewinds to get through obstacles, to climb and move. He’s in the middle of seeing if he can move something when he sees it. Friday’s date on a newspaper scrap. If the world’s ending on Friday, or at least Altea, he has to figure out what it is. 

  When Lance gets to the lighthouse, he sees the storm approaching. It’s the eye of a hurricane, in August of all months, and Lance is about to die he’s going to die this is all going to end and---

   “Wake  _ up  _ already!” Lance opens his eyes to a voice, then a face. Keith’s face, who looks desperate and worried and holy shit what just happened. 

  “Hey, uh, where are we?” Lance asks, he smiles as an attempt to be reassuring. Keith isn’t having any of it. 

  Keith gives him the flattest look he can muster, which still has a bit of panic in it,“You were passed out and convulsing and that’s the first thing you ask? Really?”

  “Yes really! Now can I know where we are?” Lance can see an open sky, but he could also be in some weird nightmare extension. Or something. There’s no way he’d be in Keith’s arms otherwise. Wait...Keith’s arms? 

  “I don’t know why, but I brought you to the lighthouse. Do you want to sit down or something?” Lance nods, sitting up. Keith lets go of him gradually, which would be much more embarrassing if Lance didn’t just learn the apocalypse is happening in four days. Lance doesn’t need the help getting to the bench near the lighthouse, but he lets himself take it anyways. They’re next to each other, Keith is taking out his lighter and Lance lets his mouth run without thinking. 

   “Keith, this is gonna sound crazy, but I think Altea won’t be around by Friday. Saw a storm, a  _ big  _ one and something’s happening I just don’t kn--” Keith puts his hand on Lance’s shoulder. His smile is slight for a moment, the kind that Lance remembers. It’s then when Lance sees white snow fall on Keith’s hair. They both look up at the same time, it's a bright day in August, and snow is falling around them. As if Altea is nature’s perfect snow globe, which would sound pretty if it wasn't so unsettling.

  “I believe you. I mean, it’s fucking snowing on a day with no clouds, about time this shithole got what it was asking for.” Lance lets Keith light up near him, lets him brush snow out of his hair and watches him to look vulnerable and sharp at the same time. Something’s telling Lance they'll be together at the end of their small town world.


	2. eyes dark like the end of a sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> partner in crime and partner in time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for implied sexual assault and drug use.

It's more than a bit counterproductive, the fact that Lance has to sleep with a mask and headphones because he has trouble sleeping, but that he needs a lot of noise to wake himself up. Lance wakes up at 7:43 AM and gets himself to the shower before he can think. The showers start getting crowded after nine, and he always wakes up feeling filthy. It’s a mix of things: a large family and limited hot water, invasive questions, and more time to have proper skin and haircare. He gets into a stall at the corner, starts washing up. His focus needs to be fairly divided to get out on time, he starts tasks at once, and it’s natural that he perks up when he hears laughter.

 He recognizes Sendak and his friends laughing. It’s probably not anything good, knowing them, but he definitely starts listening when he hears a high pitched accent imitation.  _ Allura _ , Lance thinks. She seemed down, and she’d been getting a lot of shit, but why would they be doing this? Lance wonders if he can come to punch Sendak in the face and rewind again. 

   “Oh,  _ stop! _ ” Sendak croons, “Who knew she could scratch so hard, hope our boy managed to deal wi--” 

__ Lance can’t do this. He can’t face up against three people, and he has to stay in the school’s good graces. But he definitely rewound three times just to punch Sendak in the face. The nosebleed and extra few minutes washing up are worth it. When he leaves, he sees a picture of Allura taped up, buttons undone and eyes glazed over. He balls it up and rips it into pieces before throwing it in the trash. For a non flirtatious reason, Lance wish he had Allura’s number. He just has to hope he’ll see her in class.

  He goes through his texts, sees a few from Hunk. Yesterday at ten, when Lance was usually awake. He hoped Hunk didn’t think something was wrong, even though a lot is. Hunk doesn’t deserve being overwhelmed by Lance’s problems, especially with the fact he’s moved away.

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** SO!!! shay and i r having a date tomorrow lance idk what to wear 

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** ur usually awake now is somthing up?

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** anyhow i need ur help w clothing 2morrow my sisters all laughed @ me

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** said i sunded like u just text me when you wake up

**You:** it’s aight i gotchu 

**You:** ok so ditch the headband, pull ur hair back and the muscle tank 

**You:** and wear ur nicest jeans DONT go off and wear a suit i will come back n ikck ur ass

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** thanks bro but id beat u in a fight 

**You:** debates aside tho

**You:** she rlly rlly likes u b ur normal hunk self aight? dont meme it up to hard tho

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** stop. im not u lance

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** but hru 

 

 Lance pauses at that. He doesn’t want to make Hunk worry, but he also hates lying. He absentmindedly replies to texts, until he encounters one with a normal name. Weird.

 

**Keith:** can you meet me at the five cats diner? 

**You:** ya i will but wats up keithy

**Keith:** dont call me that oh my god

**You:** >:)c

**Keith:** what the FUCK is that???

**You:** >>:)cc

**Keith:** STOP!!! no emojis god

**You:** :,(

**You** have changed  **Keith** ’s contact name to  **> :c** .

**You:** .jpg sent

**> :c: ** you kno what fuck you no free breakfast

**You:** keith u cant do this 2 me

**> :c: ** i can if you dont get over here quick enough and dont stop w emojis

**You:** omw 

 

He looks back at Hunk’s unread text. It’s a lose lose situation, so Lance does what he does best. Wing it and deal with the consequences later. He opens the thread as he walks out of his room and towards the bus stop.

**You:** im aight, i saw someone i didnt think id c n im working on an actual contest

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** like a photography contest??

**You:** ya my teacher actually thinks i can do it so im like?? i Guess

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** so whod u c???

**You:** u kno how i told u bout keith...well i saw him yesterday again, hes p similar to wat ive said

**You:**  he has a nice place n all and ya!! it was good weird tho

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** im glad u have ppl there. is that y u slept early

**You:** ya i have a marine bio test so i actually tried to sleep 

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** u sure u arent sick?

**You:** naw im good, BUT im omw to a date ;) gotta get my a game on gl w ur date bro

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** gl lance dont b too...well lance like lol.

**You:** blocked reported unfollowed im gonna do GREAT.

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** sounds fake but ok, seriously tho ull b good n ill let u b C:

**You:** ok gl urself hunky boy

**MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** never call me that again. srsly this time bye!!!

 

  Lance puts his phone in his pocket and looks up to face Pidge Gunderson. He looks tired, which makes two of them. 

  “Hey,” Pidge says, “can I just say you owe me before saying anything else?”

 Lance comes closer to Pidge, “Don’t I seriously always owe you? Like this isn’t a new trend.” Pidge snickers, “Glad you’ve realized the truth.” He turns and Lance sees the concealer for a bruise before Pidge even has to point it out. 

 “You used makeup,” Lance says. As if it isn’t obvious, Pidge is good at a lot of things, blending is not one of them.

   “Well, um…you can say that girls do that. Use makeup. You know, because I’m a girl. Not your man or bro, but not your girl. But I  _ am  _ a girl, is this making any sense?” Lance places his hands on hi-- _ her  _ shoulders. 

   “Pidge? It’s all good. I might be a tool, but I’ve seen similar. Is this what you were gonna tell me, because really if you’re gonna tell me to stop calling you short I-- _ ouch! _ ” Pidge delivers a swift kick to Lance’s leg. But she’s smiling, a genuine Pidge style grin, and Lance smiles back with everything he’s got. He wants to ask if she’s like him, even though he can read between the lines, but that seems like a conversation for another time.

   “Among other things,” she says, “but that’s enough soul baring for today. I need a  _ big, strong _ man to help my weak female self carry some old parts on Thursday. I’m making something in the kitchen soon, and it’s gonna be  _ lit _ .” Her dramatic gestures could use some work, but the moment she says  _ lit  _ he laughs. Pidge laughs with him, and he’s glad she trusted him for this, hopes she’ll trust him with whatever else is in her little genius mind. 

   “Now, if a  _ lady _ says so...” Pidge scrunches her face at that, says a  _ bleh!  _ When Lance does an exaggerated bow. 

   “But anyways,” Pidge says, “what was with trucker boy?” Her glasses are nearly shining,Lance is somewhat intimidated. 

    “Oh! Yeah, I wanted to talk to him today so, I’m gonna go see him at the diner now?” Pidge’s grin is less relieved and happy and more malicious. 

    “So,” she says, “you’re going on a date with a punk trucker, who dragged you into his ride and probably made  _ sweet l-- _ ”

   “I’m gonna stop you right there. My friend is a cruel, unforgiving mistress, who won’t give me free food if I don’t jet.” Pidge’s eyes widen, and Lance swears she’s trying to hold something back before her expression relaxes again. Lance turns away to walk to the bus stop, he is still on a schedule after all.

   “Oooh,” she calls, “boy’s got you  _ whipped! _ ” Lance gives her the bird in response, it doesn’t work. He can clearly hear her laughter from a distance. 

  Lance does  _ not  _ fume over the spam of kissing emojis Pidge sends him. If he’d told Hunk, he’d be spammed twice as much. So Lance looks around, ignores his phone and looks out the window. The bus approaches the Five Lions diner quickly, and Lance enters with a sense of hesitance. He knows the place, he remembers the black coffee and the french toast. He remembers the waitress turned owner Aiko with her pink lip gloss and the smileys she drew on his food. The diner is older, naturally, and the faces seem more tired. It’s a little more muted in color, and he sees Keith easily. His red streak, black skull shirt, and his beanie make him stand out amongst the crowd of truckers.

  Lance does not expect Keith to be  _ friendly  _ with someone. He looks at the person Keith’s coming for, and recognizes Aiko in an instant. He walks over, slides across the bench to face Keith. Aiko is the one that responds first. 

  “Lance! Is that you, it’s like I’ve been brought back, with you and Keith together again.” Her smile is warm, and Lance smiles in response. Keith sighs, and Lance ignores it. 

   “It’s a pleasure to see you again Miss Aiko, still as lovely as ever,” Aiko giggles and Lance can feel Keith roll his eyes. 

   “Please, don’t flatter me too much. I thought today was going to be boring, but I saw Keith and wanted to catch up. So what can I get you?” She even uses a similar pen and pad, looks down expectantly. 

 “Pancakes please,” Lance says.

 “Nothing for him, french toast for me,” Keith says. Lance gives him a glare, and Aiko writes everything down with a smile. She chuckles when Lance flicks Keith’s shoulder, and walks off smoothly as soon as they start squabbling. 

 “Why are you so  _ rude,  _ I’ve been nothing but good to you!” Keith does a cross between a shrug and throwing his hands up. 

 “Says the one who rolled his eyes every three seconds!” Lance rolls his eyes as an attempt to imitate Keith. 

 “Says the guy who was flirting with  _ Aiko _ !” In Lance’s defense, he was being  _ polite _ . Not flirting, Aiko might be very pretty, but Lance still wasn’t flirting. It’s honestly habit at this point, though that’s probably not the best thing to say.

 “Hey, in my defense, I’m pretty cool,” Lance grins, “I can do a  _ lot  _ of stuff.”

 “And where’s the proof of that?” “ _ Like what? Be a fool?”  _ is unsaid. 

 “I dunno, in the fact that I can rewind time?” Lance says, of course, without thinking. 

 “What,” Keith says.

 “What,” Lance says. He pauses, Keith looks at him as if he’d taken whatever drugs are pumped in this town. Well, since Lance let the cat out of the bag, he better do something about it. 

  “I can prove it,” Lance says, “seriously! Show me what’s in your pockets or something, and I’ll rewind and tell you what’s in them!”

   Keith still thinks Lance is high, but digs his stuff out of his pocket anyways. Lance might have a selectively shit memory, but he’d repeat the words in his head if it cleared his name. Lance doesn’t think that maybe, just maybe, he could rewind so he never admitted his power. Instead, he focuses on what Keith takes out: cigarettes (four of them), a red lighter, picture, phone. Lance takes a look at the picture. It was Keith, standing stiff with an awkward peace sign in front of his truck. He’s got a half smile his hair still has the streak, and Lance can’t see whether he has the tattoo or not. Lance is tempted to ask who took the photo, instead he goes to rewind again.

  “What,” Keith says. Lance wipes his nose in case there’s blood. 

  “I just rewound now, ask me what’s in your pockets.” Keith gives him a flat look. Lance narrows his eyes, Keith narrows back. It takes at least ten seconds for Keith to resign himself and ask what’s in his pockets.

  “Okay so you have four cigarettes, your red lighter, your cell, and a picture of you in front of your truck with possible the most awkward peace sign I have ever seen in my life.” Lance snorts at that part, and Keith’s eyes widen in response. 

   “I want more proof. Tell me what happens in the next...thirty seconds. No less than four things or I won’t believe you.” Lance squints, nods, and looks around for five things to note. He sets a timer on his phone to end after thirty seconds. The first thing is the door opening, two cops come in. Aiko makes them coffee, when she has her back turned, one tries to knock it down. Must be a newbie, because everyone knows Aiko can catch just about anything. She says her son got that from her. She turns, smiling after catching a hot cup of coffee. 

  Lance is torn away from that when he sees something fly by, a dragonfly lands on the jukebox. He checks his phone, fifteen seconds left. He looks at the truckers, they’re talking about… betting on little league teams? One with a bear mascot, another with eagles. They’re both betting on the bears. Twelve seconds, the dragonfly moves from the jukebox to Keith’s shoulder, specifically the rose tattoo. Keith actually smiles at the thing, when he doesn’t think Lance is looking. Lance  to rewinds. 

   “I want more proof. Tell me what happens in the next...thirty seconds. No less than four things or I won’t believe you.” Keith’s eyes are narrowed and skeptical.

  “Done and done,” Lance says. Keith’s brows raise.

  “Alright, some cops are gonna come in. We’ll call em Regular Guy and Newbie,” Keith nods right as the cops come in.

   “They’re gonna go to the counter, Newbie is gonna try and knock down Aiko’s cup. We both know how that goes.” 

   “Yeah, is that why you called him Newbie?” Keith asks, Lance gives him an  _ mhm  _ before letting Keith watch what happens. 

 “Watch the jukebox, something’s about to land on it.” Lance smirks and Keith turns his head.

  “What?” Keith asks.

  “A dragonfly,” Lance says. The dragonfly comes as if Lance had called it into existence, resting on top of a diner jukebox for no real reason. If he hears a little gasp from Keith, he doesn’t mention it for once. 

  “Now,” Lance says, “listen to those truckers. Can’t remember their names, but they spend their time betting on Little League teams. They both agree that between the bears and the eagles, the bears are gonna win. One calls the eagles pissants, it’s all kinda weird.” Keith sighs, leans a little towards them to hear their conversation. Lance doesn’t have to do that, he just sees Keith’s eyes widen and know he’s being convinced. 

   “Four out of four for proof, watch the dragonfly. It’ll land on your rose tattoo.” Keith nods, Lance wonders if he ran out of words to talk shit. Lance actually managed to make Keith  _ speechless _ , though he knows it’ll be brief he can’t help but feel triumphant about the fact. He watches the dragonfly land on Keith’s shoulder, his expression is a little more shocked, but he still smiles. 

  Keith turns to Lance, the dragonfly still resting on his shoulder, “I’m about 90% sure this is real and I’m not sure how to react to it.”

   “It’s the thought that counts,” Lance says, “now I’m pretty sure Aiko’s coming with food, and food makes pretty much everything make more sense.” 

 “Like the power to rewind time?” Keith’s expression is completely blank.

  “Why don’t you give it a try?” Lance says.

  “Okay, then I have a question,” Keith still looks weirdly blank.

   “Shoot,”  Lance puts his elbows on the table, trying to run through possible answers in his head. He’s sure he’ll screw up, but it’s worth a try.

 “Why do  _ you  _ of all people have that power?” Keith asks, and Lance can see the small self satisfied smile Keith gives him. The asshole, and Lance was being serious.  

  “Fight me asshole,” Lance glares and crosses his arms. 

   Keith reciprocates the gesture, “You’re acting like you can win?”

  “Wanna test that theory?” Lance asks, it’s all the gusto without any ill intentions. Sort of, Lance would actually love to kick Keith’s ass at least once, just to boast about it. But that’s completely innocent.

   “If you do, you’ll have to leave without your food,” Aiko says. They both look up at her at the same time, then at the food in her arms. Lance laces his hands on his lap, Keith only has his hands on the edge of the table. Aiko nods in approval before placing their food down with some cups of water. 

   “I own this place, so no complaints about this all being on the house. It’s the least I can do.” They both try speak up, probably for the same reason, but she shushes them in an instant. 

   “I’m going to be busy after this, so you can’t avoid it. I’m glad I got to see you both together. Lance, I think my son would like you. Keith can certainly attest to that.” Lance turns to Keith, who looks strangely flustered. But honestly? He’ll go  _ off  _ if he doesn’t get something in his system, he barely remembers him saying  _ I’m glad to see you too thank you for the food _ before wolfing down his meal. Keith looks with horror, because though Lance eats fast, Keith is somehow slower and messier. Finally, something Lance can be better at. 

  They both split the bill they were never given, putting cash under their hard plastic cups. Keith leads the way after saying he needs Lance’s help with something. So it’s naturally Keith isn’t pleased when Lance’s phone rings and he pulls it out. Unknown number, but something tells him he should answer it, even with Keith’s silent protests. 

   “Hey, Lance speaking, who’s this?” Lance asks. 

   “It’s Allura. I never thought I’d be grateful for you writing your number on an assignment, but I’d like to tell you something.” Lance can feel his body relax, thank God she’s still here. He wants to say she’s okay, but he’s not sure of that yet. 

 “So, what’s up?” Lance asks, because this really wasn’t in all the hypothetical scenarios where Allura would call him up. But then, a lot of things haven’t been going according to plan or fantasy. The Friday apocalypse seems like the one fucked up exception. 

   “Ah,” Allura’s voice sounds a little raspy now that Lance focuses on it, “I just wanted to say thank you for earlier. I wouldn’t have wanted to use force, and you prevented me from doing something reckless. Though I wouldn’t approve of that behavior, I am grateful for your intervention.” 

  “Awww,” Lance cooes, and he can practically see her and Keith roll their eyes, “is this your way of proposing to me? Because I gotta say you can use force on me any time. Do you need anything from me  _ other  _ than a yes to your proposal?”

  “I don’t,” Allura says, Lance notices the lack of rejection, almost like she didn’t register it, “I’m just going to spend some time with the flowers. You know the meadow with the Altean Violets? It’s what reminds me of family, so I’ll just take a little trip.”

   Lance is glad she’s doing something to help herself, and he releases a breath and relaxes his shoulders, “I’m glad you are. Just...take it easy, get some help. You can talk to me Allura.” 

  “Thank you Lance, but there’s no real need. I’ll see you.” He doesn’t ask about the photos, something tells him this isn’t what she needs. Some people need peace before they can come to terms with the war surrounding them, he can respect that. 

 “Yeah you sound tired, take a nap or something, I don’t know. Bye Allura, call me if you need anything.” She whispers a  _ goodbye _ , and Lance smiles. Allura is going to do something good for herself, Lance can ask questions and flirt badly later. He hangs up, turns to Keith, who has a sour expression on his face. 

  “You sound happy,” Keith’s eyes are still narrowed, arms crossed. What? As if Lance was doing something wrong by helping a friend. Keith can be annoyed sure, but this is getting pissy, and Lance isn’t having any of it. 

  “Listen, she’s been through a lot okay? Let her be.” Lance turns away after Keith opens his mouth. He hears Keith growl in frustration, Lance thought Keith grew out of that when he was thirteen. Guess Keith hasn’t grown out of a lot of things.

   “What did you just say?” and Lance just said that out loud. Great. Being the fool he is, he turns to see Keith. Keith’s eyes are dark like the end of a sunset, Lance would applaud himself for the poetic thought if he wasn’t busy feeling like garbage about what he just said. Doesn’t mean he’ll back down, his pride’s a bit too much for that.

   “So, are we done here?” Lance asks, he starts to walk off, and really he should stop when Keith clears his throat. But he does.

    “Can you...can I take you somewhere? Of course, if you think I haven’t grown up enough to drive you back anywhere.” Keith’s face is stone cold, but Lance hears the hint of satisfaction in his voice. Lance nods, and lets Keith lead the way to the truck.

  The ride is silent, because neither of them have been good at apologizing first. Keith focuses on the road, Lance barely focuses on the surroundings. The only reason Lance is pulled out of it is after Keith shakes him. Lance is aware of the junkyard, and Keith’s concerned face at the same time. He unbuckles, Keith is courteous enough to open the door for him. 

 Keith leads him into a more isolated spot of the junkyard, filled with old ships and buildings and trash. Somehow, Lance thought the place would be different than what he’d seen at a distance, but an Altean junkyard is the same as any other junkyard. There is, however, a room of sorts near the place Keith stops, a place to be looked at later. Though Lance might have slight regrets about this situation when Keith pulls out a gun. 

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, I  _ know  _ I was being a dick but are you seriously gonna shoot me?” Lance takes a few steps back and Keith just  _ looks  _ at him, “At least let me get some praying in first maybe a text or two to my family and friends--” 

  “I’m not going to shoot you, unless  _ you _ want to be the target instead of the bottles I want you to find.” Keith shakes his head, “You’re gonna rewind until I get it right.”

   “Wait,” Lance takes a few steps forward, “where’d you get that gun? I’m pretty sure high school dropouts who live in a _shed_ aren’t gonna have the easiest time getting legal firearms.”

   “And  _ why _ do you need to know this?” Keith says, somehow managing to stand firm even though he’s being evasive as hell. Lance wishes he had the same skill.

   “Because I’d rather know if my reckless buddy Keith stole a gun?” Lance shrugs, and Keith takes a step towards him. Even though they’re only a few inches apart, neither of them step back. Somehow it isn’t too close for comfort when it’s Keith, or specifically, trying to force Keith to tell the truth.

    “Ok fine! I took it from Coran!” Keith takes a labored breath, as if telling the full truth was a heavy burden. It might be.

    “Who the hell is Coran?” Lance had never heard the name  _ Coran _ five years ago, it sounds like a name you’d hear in Portland. Lance has never been to Portland in his life.

    “A guy in his forties who also deals everything?” It’s posed like a question but comes off more like a shout. Keith shrugs, and Lance can admit Keith knows stuff. But this guy seems too weird to be true. 

  “Someone can’t just deal  _ everything _ and set up shop in Altea of all places.” Altea’s dealer appeal is bored rich high schoolers, Lance thinks about Portland again. Then about crime movies. He wonders if there are any crime movies get in Portland, that would be wild. 

   “Well Coran just does okay? So if we’re done talking about forty year old dealers, let’s--” Keith points at the open space-- “get some bottles!”

   “Okay!” Lance says, he puts his stuff down and goes off in a random direction. It takes him around seven seconds to realize he’s going North, and that he’s supposed to be looking for bottles. He figures Keith will be looking as well, and though he didn’t say it was a race...it’s a race. He runs along, glances for the most intact bottles he can get. Even though he could rewind, it wouldn’t be fair, and Lance can be a fair guy. 

  He’s got two bottles in his arms when he the pseudo room is in his sights. He enters without hesitation, the ready excuse of  _ I was just checking for bottles  _ as prepared in his brain as it’ll ever be. The first thing he sees are empty cigarette packs, a bottle of Kahlua, another bottle of Jack Daniels, labeled with hasty scrawl:  _ Keith don’t touch! I will know!  _ Lance checks them, both have some left. There’s a dirty mattress, a couple of old bracelets hanging on a nail. There’s a shoebox, Lance opens it, and is met with various key charms, and photographs. Some of Keith, some of this Shiro. Shiro drinking, Shiro texting, Shiro laughing. Lance shuts the box and shoves it away, instead turning to see some writing on the wall.

  “ _ Shiro was here _ ,” one says.

_ “Keith was here,”  _ the other says. 

  “ _ Lance was here,”  _ he writes. He looks down to see an empty beer bottle, and picks it up as he leaves. By the time he reaches Keith, Lance has picked up two other bottles (rewind abilities sometimes needed). Keith hasn’t notices him yet, instead resting on an old car, fiddling with a gun that’s pointed towards the sky. Lance takes a photo, once again without thinking. It’s not even the noise that jolts Keith up, it’s Lance’s snickering. 

 “I will shoot your camera,” Keith hisses, getting up off the car, gun in his hand.

  “How about you try these bottles first?” Lance is smiling while he says it, setting up the bottles in a roughly equidistant fashion. He keeps his bag close and his camera closer, much to Keith’s chagrin. He backs away, giving plenty of room for Keith to fire, his own arm extended and ready to rewind. 

  Keith shoots and misses. Lance rewinds. Keith is ready to fire, Lance tells him to aim a bit to the right. Keith fires, aims for the next bottle. Lance rewinds. Lance tells Keith to aim up, Keith fires. 

  “Let’s do a trick shot,” Keith says.

   “Sure,” Lance says, against his better judgment. It takes Lance a moment to realize Keith wants him to say where to shoot, and another to find a spot. Lance tells Keith to try the rusted tired rim nearby, the bullet’s deflected and hits the bullet. Lance then points Keith to shoot at any part of the car. He aims for the rim, and Lance is the only one who remembers a bullet entering Keith’s chest. He’s the only one who will feel how hoarse his voice should be, but he rewinds that all away. Next time, he makes sure Keith shoots the tire, and the final bottle is shattered. Though that part is more testimonial, because Lance falls down. He sees the dark of the ground and the blood of from his nose before he blacks out. 

  He wakes up, Keith clearly leaned him against the car. Lance’s vision is fuzzy at first, he lets himself blink a few times before fully opening his eyes. He touches his face to see if there’s more blood, his head is still slightly throbbing, but he’ll be ok.

  “You nose isn’t bleeding anymore, are you sick or something? Is it a side effect?” Keith doesn’t need to clarify, and Lance knows he can’t tell Keith the truth. 

  “Yeah, don’t worry though I’ll be fine. What’s next on the agenda?” Lance asks, he forces himself to smile. Keith stares at him for a moment before handing Lance the gun.

  “You should practice too,” Keith says. Lance gets up with the gun in his hands, and Keith points to another array of bottles. Lance looks at the chamber: Keith must have found some bullets, or stolen them. He doesn’t ask. Instead he aims, fires, aims, fires, and does it one more time before Keith objects.

 “You rewound didn’t you,” it’s more statement than question. 

  “I didn’t,” Lance pulls down his shirt, “I just grew up knowing how to shoot. You’re just jealous I’m better than you at something.” 

 “...am not,” Keith says.

  “Are too,” Lance says, he smiles when he says it, because Keith is totally jealous. Lance loves it. Keith is silent, and Lance takes a few opportunities to silently lord it over him. He still has the gun in his hand when he hears the rustling. The flash of a man, something up for a picture. Lance shoots. He runs towards the scene, Keith grabbing their stuff behind him. There’s a trail of blood in the junkyard, and no one in sight.

“Well, that just happened,” Keith says. As if everything’s suddenly okay, but Lance barely has the energy to freak out. Keith seems to pick up on Lance’s unusual silence, coming closer to him. Lance lets go of the gun and hopes he still isn’t shaking. 

 “What if I killed him?” Lance asks. He picks up his bag just so his hands can grip something tight.  

 “You didn’t, let’s take a break from all this. Follow me.” Keith moves past Lance, doesn’t bother to look back and see if Lance is even following him. He wouldn’t have to, because Lance does follow. Lance doesn’t want to stand around and wallow, and neither does Keith from the pace he’s walking. 

 Keith stops when they reach the train tracks near the junkyard. The best way to leave Altea is either by car or these tracks, it’s strange to think about and Lance doesn’t quite know why. He doesn’t even have to ask Keith if he’s serious when Keith rests on the tracks. Lance lays down, his head facing the track controls while Keith’s faces the junkyard. It’s an opposite kind of thing, but Lance thinks it works. Lance rests one arm above his stomach, and his hand as a substitute pillow. He doesn’t want to mess up his hair  _ too  _ much. 

  He can see Keith’s tattoos peek out from his rolled up jacket sleeves, he uses both his hands to rest his head on. When they make eye contact, Keith gives Lance a small, rare smile. Lance smiles back, as subtle as can be. 

 “Things will be okay--” Keith takes a deep breath-- “we can be partners. You can probably tell I’m still looking for Shiro. So…”

  “I’ll help you Keith. I want to help. Besides, I’ll be making up for five years, gotta shape up.” Lance looks up at the sun, how it blends into Keith’s figure, even though he’s wearing mostly black. But then, black absorbs light, so that might just work. The white of Keith’s shirt, the black of his jacket, beanie, jeans, they combine into gray. Gray like the sky of a storm, gray like the sky of a storm.

  Lance faces the storm head on, as he always seems to do. It doesn’t last, he’s swept off his feet he sees the lighthouse white and glowing and steady against the storm. He’s shaking, the storm is approaching and there’s something he has to do to make things right but he  _ can’t _ . Lance gets up, he’s swept and he gets up again and again and again. He walks into the eye of the storm, hears the wind and water surround him, and sees the sun shining.

“Shit!” Lance registers it as Keith’s voice, “I’m stuck in the tracks can you..” the rest is muted by the sound of an incoming train, and Lance jolts up. He goes for the control pattern, and he’d relish in Keith freaking out if he wasn’t about to  _ fucking  _ die. Lance runs up the platform takes a crowbar in one hand. There’s a spool he can push down as long as he moves the wedges. The crowbar could work, Lance will make it work. He’s moving the wedges when he turns to see the train approaching, he rewinds. Ignoring the pounding, throbbing of his head, he finishes moving it. Keith lets out a bloodcurling cry, Lance rewinds. Lance pushes down the spool, the tracks are moved, and he allows himself to breathe.

“You saved my fucking life Lance,” Keith says as Lance runs down towards the tracks. 

“Please--” Lance poses-- “call me Great Savior, the master of time.”

  Keith’s expression turns from relieved gratitude to annoyance, “Rewind so I can get hit by the train, I never want to hear your voice again.” He still lets Lance help him get out of the tracks.

  “Then who’s gonna be my partner in crime! You can’t just hang that over me and take it away, dick move Keithy boy.” Lance smiles at the last part, and Keith gives him the dirtiest look he can muster. It’s not that effective, Keith is still pretty breathless. But then, so is Lance. 

  “I have the gun,” Keith says, dusting himself off, “and who said I was your partner?”

 Lance gapes, “Said  _ you _ ! Are you saying you won’t be my partner in crime?” Lance stands on one end of the rail, Keith stands on the other.

 Keith probably doesn’t realize, but he stands on his toes and leans a little closer before he speaks, “Only if you’ll be by partner in time.” He reaches his left hand towards Lance’s right. Lance gives a “ _ Really?”  _ but he takes it. They walk in balance, sometimes one of them will swing their hands to see if the other will stumble. Lance ignores the sweat of his hands and the way his heart hammers in his chest, especially when he sees Keith’s satisfied smile.

 It’s two hours until class starts, but Lance wants to take a second shower. Keith just shakes his head, but lets Lance in his truck anyways. When Keith is busy being a decent driver, Lance fiddles with the car radio. It’s at a long stop light that both Keith and Lance realize what’s on.

_ “ _ _ Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy (Hey, what up girl?) _

_ Grab my glasses, I'm out the door; I'm gonna hit this city (Let's go) _ _.” _

Keith’s eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape. Lance is grinning, there’s no need for words. Lance  _ will  _ sing alone to hips don’t lie, and there’s noting Keith can do to stop him. That doesn’t stop Keith from mouthing  _ fuck you  _ right before the light turns. 

  “Sooo, wanna be my P Diddy?” Lance waggles his eyebrows even though Keith won’t see. Keith doesn’t dignify him with a response, so Lance continues to sing every word of Tik Tok. Keith’s nudges turn to outright elbowing, but no one can stop Lance when he’s on a roll.

 When he pulls into the parking lot, Keith looks at Lance with the most long suffering glare. Lance waves out with the obligatory  _ later Keithy _ . He turns to the horn sound, and sees Keith flipping him the bird. Naturally, Lance reciprocates before entering the dorm building. 

 He showers quickly, gets into his room and checks his texts. Hunk is probably at school, so Lance isn’t surprised when he sees nothing new from him. He does see a text from Pidge, he opens it after getting dressed.

**gunbird aka** **a bird with a gun:** need help w a science experiment lol

**You:** ya sure i got time before class 

**You:** but wat would u need from me? 

**gunbird aka** **a bird with a gun:** i just need u to get me like every yellow labeled bottle from 209 

**You:** oh thank the lord 

**gunbird aka** **a bird with a gun:** im in the chem lab meet me there

 

 Lance takes his photography stuff, some notes, and puts them in his bag along with his camera. He’s glad he doesn’t think when he walks, or encounter someone who makes him think. He just wants to drift for a bit. Lance finds himself in room 209, which is always open even with the potentially dangerous chemicals. He takes every single one with yellow labels, which probably mean dangerous. But danger was probably Pidge’s middle name. Like, if it was on her public records he totally wouldn’t be surprised. 

 The first thing he notices about Pidge is that she’s tense. When he indicates he’s here, she relaxes for a moment before stiffening up again. Lance puts the bottles in front of her, making sure they’re in her grasp and far away from what she already has set up. It’s when Lance’s hand brushes against a paper than Pidge jolts. A missing poster for Shiro rests under Lance’s hand, with notes on it. Pidge snatches it from his hand before he can ask anything. 

  “Lance,” she says, “thanks for everything. Could you please leave?” Lance nods. He doesn’t think rewinding will help with this, only the truth. He closes the door to the lab room behind him, and heads over to photography class. He might have seen the tears in Pidge’s eyes, but knows not the acknowledge them.

   He stops in his tracks when he hears words, Allura and Alfor arguing. Allura has tears in her eyes her hands are completely limp, Alfor is still and silent. Lance doesn’t think he can intervene, but he can ask what’s going on when Allura leaves the room. He runs after her, tapping on her shoulder so she turns around. 

  “Allura,” he asks, “are you okay?” He wonders if there’s something up with his face, because her expression is the blankest he’s ever seen on her. She lets out a small smile and nods.

  “It will all be okay, I’m going to see the flowers,” she turns to walk away after that. Before Lance can say anything, Alfor steps out. 

  “She will be fine Lance, but you still have class to attend. Although I need to answer the phone, I’d appreciate it if you and other students stayed inside.” Lance nods, entering the classroom. He can look up flower fields in Altea while he sits down so he can talk to Allura after class, it’s the least he can do.

 Lance immediately regrets letting an authority figure dictate his choices when he enters the classroom. He approaches his desk and comes to a standstill when he sees Sendak and Thace sitting on his desk. Not even standing near it, or sitting at his chair, no, their asses were where he put his books. 

  “What is it,” Lance doesn’t even ask. He just wants to sit down and do whatever the hell’s required of today. Neither of them even  _ have  _ Alfor at this time, so really the only reason they’d be here is to try and pull something.

  Sendak has what Lance would say is a smile that looks like he knows something you don’t. He uses that smile with Lane, except it has about 70% more teeth and there’s Thace wearing a similar expression. 

  Thace speaks up first, “We’d like to know what you were doing in the bathroom this morning.” Lance is probably a little screwed, but rewinding is in the back of his mind. Maybe he can bluff his way through it.

 “I was taking a shower,” Lance moves closer to his desk, “I always shower early.” Thace is about to say something else, but Alfor comes back in. He looks over, Alfor is smiling, but he doesn’t have to say a word for Sendak and Thace to leave. Lance is glad he’s on his teacher’s good side, even if that means he didn’t get a chance to research flower fields in Altea. 

 Halfway into Alfor’s lecture on black and white photography, someone storms in, swinging the door open. Alfor barely gets half a word in before the class hears, “Something’s happening at the girl’s dorm!” Everyone leaves despite Alfor’s protests, always wanting to see drama. Lance takes a look out towards the hallway. All the students are coming towards the same direction Allura left, and Lance  _ runs _ . Why couldn’t he see? If he stuck around, extended the call, force the issue. What can he possibly do?

  It’s raining, of course, it’s always raining when there’s death in the air. He sees Allura on the roof from a distance, but no one else will  _ fucking  _ move. He can’t rewind far enough, and lord does he try. There are phone cameras held out and Lance needs them out of the way but he can’t move fast enough he needs everything to  _ still. _

  It does, and Lance doesn’t notice it at first. He feels slow, which frustrates him further, and when he turns to see the people around him, he notices they’re still. He even glances at the tacky clock tower, and while he moves, the clock’s stopped. It’s not a full register of the fact he can freeze time, but he knows he has to move to the roof, to Allura, his friend. Time is pulling against him, like a strong wind in the opposing direction, and Lance moves with full armor. It doesn’t matter if his head’s tearing itself apart, if his body collapses, if he can save the life of someone precious, he’ll do it all again. 

  He goes up the stairs to the girls’ dorm roof, is grateful it’s the same layout as the boys’, easier to navigate and push through. With this, he can pull Allura down without anyone else being a voyeur for long. Time stops pulling against him when he reaches the roof, and Lance never thought he’d want the feeling to stick around. 

  Allura is rain soaked, leaning against the low rooftop. Her arms hang over, her hair damp and sticking to her skin and clothes. She turns when the door opens, slow and blank. She does not move. Lance takes a few steps forward. 

 “No,” Allura says, “you can’t tread on the flowers. Father planted them for me, they’re where I go when I need to see the light.” She’d said things about the flowers, but this is the concrete school roof. Lance doesn’t move, rewinding or freezing time won’t come to him. He’s on his own.

  “The flowers, the flowers...right--” Lance crouches down and takes a deep breath--”they smell awfully nice over here? What do you say, think they smell better where I am?” Allura shakes her head and laughs.

“Lance, you’re too careless to notice what you’re stepping on, shall I come to you?” Allura laughs again, almost falling forward. Lance screams until she pulls herself back up, laughing louder than ever. She stands up, unsteady, walks a straight line as if she’s on a tightrope. When Lance looks at her eyes, they’re glazed over, and he knows they are in two completely different worlds. She sits down in front of him, cross legged and smiling. As if she’s a child again, blissfully unaware of the situation around her. 

  “Hey Allura, your necklace is pretty. It suits you.” Lance points at the cross Allura always wears, She looks down, cups it in her hands. She brings it to her lips, eyes closed for a brief moment, and lets out a little gasp like she didn’t expect herself to do that. 

 “Thank you, my baby gave it to me. He knew I believed in God, and gave me this a few days after we first met. I love him, I do, but I can’t remember his name?” Tears well up in her eyes, and Lance reaches out to take her hands. They’re limp and cold and shaking and Lance is helpless to help her. 

 She shakes her head rapidly, “No, no, no, I was made to forget. To push it back. He’s not real but he is? He’s gone he’s not real I can’t lose them somebody please help me help them if I lose Takashi and Father my heart will be carved into pieces and why are the flowers leaving Lance Lance when did you get here can you tell me what’s going on can Coran tell me what’s the matter with Father...Lance...where’s Takashi?” Lance is silent, and Allura almost sinks to the floor. For a moment, it’s quiet except for the rain. He can see her breath from the cold, and she looks up at the sky like she can reach heaven. When Lance is about to speak, she stands up, shaking legs and eyes horrified and awake. After she stands, Lance helps her stay up. His arm around her, they walk down the stairs, slow and drenched. Lance digs through his pockets and dials 911 with his left hand, still helping Allura stay upright with his other arm.

 Before he calls, he hears a voice say an ambulance is here, and he takes Allura to paramedics and watches people take photographs with eyes as dark as the end of a sunset. He’s tired, he thinks he’s going to rest.

  “Also,” a voice says, “Iverson wants to see you.” Lance drags his feet as he walks, wishes time would drag him down and let him close his eyes. He’s not sure he feels like waking up. The sky clears, and the light of the sun is nearly blinding. He’s still wet when he enters Iverson’s office, and he would usually put some effort to dry himself but he doesn’t. He looks at Iverson with tired eyes and wants him to know it never should have come to this.

  “Sendak was showing off pictures he had of Allura in the boys’ shower, he probably put more around school if you want to look. This wasn’t a suicide attempt, they probably drugged her.” Lance can barely recognize his own voice, doesn’t register that Sendak and Thace are in the same room, shouting whatever they can come up with.

  “We heard some of what she was saying.” Iverson writes things down with an aggressive detachment, if that makes a lick of sense. He seems like a lit fuse, ready to punish anyone who seems guilty enough. 

  Iverson clears his throat before continuing, “She talked about losing someone, are you  _ sure  _ this wasn’t some joint suicide thing? Or a psychotic break?” Lance shakes his head.

  “She lost...wait who’s this?” Lance looks at the security chief. He can’t call him asshole in uniform forever, and Lance would rather seem polite and passive now instead of dead inside. 

  “That’s security chief Shirogane, now what were you about to say? This is an important conversation you know.” Lance remembers Allura mentioning Takashi, and telling Iverson about this with the chief seems like a bad combination. 

  “She lost someone, and that feeling amplified when she was drugged up. It wasn’t suicide, Allura doesn’t have problems, those people just took advantage of her. But I’d ask her, and check their social medias if you really want to. They’re better witnesses than me.” Iverson nods, gestures for Lance to leave the room. Lance has never been more happy to leave a room. He’s also never been so unhappy to see Pidge waiting in front of the office. He doesn’t want to be near anyone. 

  “Hey,” Pidge says, voice quiet and soft, “want to go sit on and bench and talk about stuff?”

  “Not really,” Lance says. Pidge’s eyebrows raise, and she shakes her head.

  “Too bad--” she takes Lance’s hand before he can step away--”we’re gonna bond and shit. Come with me.” Lance rasps out a  _ no  _ but follows anyways. He’s never wanted to be alone, even when he really should be alone. 

  The sun’s setting when the two of them sit on a bench near the dorms. They’re quiet for a while, with Lance refusing to cry and Pidge thinking of the right thing to say. She’s the first one to speak.

  “Takashi Shirogane is the only link to my missing family.” Lance almost doesn’t catch her words, they’re spoken so hastily as if she’s never said them before. When he thinks about it, she probably hasn’t. He lets her take a breath before continuing.

  “I don’t know if I can say why without getting myself into more trouble, but Pidge Gunderson isn’t my real name. But...he knew my father and my brother while they were in the military, and I know he can help me figure out what happened. It’s a little dumb to bet on, but I still gave it a shot.” She chuckles, but her body is still stiff. Lance brings her closer to him, lets her lean on his shoulder. Tears are in her eyes, and they’re pouring and lance lets her rub snot over his damp hoodie. 

 “Are you homesick,” he asks, his voice is raspy but it feels more like his own, “do you think about it a lot?”  He hears Pidge sniffle, then pull her head away from Lance’s sweater to speak.

  “Always, and you?” She looks up at him, and all he can say is the truth.

   “Always,” Lance says. It’s a few minutes later when they notice the skies darken. It’s close to 5:30 in the afternoon, the sun is blocked off, and Lance knows what it’s like to be alone and together with someone all at once. He’ll rest in time, he’ll rest when the skies are clear of all that plagues them.


	3. back to a false start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mistake.png

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh this is really gay sad but also gay. tell me if its decent?

 Lance wakes up at 11:34 PM, with a sky that isn’t dark because of a solar eclipse and a cold sweat he can’t shake off. He knows Allura was taken to the hospital, and he’d consider going there, but he’s sure visiting hours are over. He doesn’t even want to check the news around school, he’s already been too angry for his own good. Even if he’s sure Allura was drugged, who’s going to take his word for it, or hers?

  His phone vibrates, and Lance is able to ignore it for about eight seconds before seeing who texted him. There are texts from Hunk saying he’s going to eat dinner at Shay’s (and asking if he should bring his metal spork), and one from Keith.

   **> :c: **i have to show you something meet me

   **You:** why???

   **> :c: **just meet me ok itll be worth it

   **You:** okay

  Lance gets up slowly, thinking about what led her to the roof. Her argument with Alfor, her being most likely drugged by Sendak, and the chief Shirogane was harassing her. He could ask her himself later, but for now he has to see what he can find on his own. Iverson’s unlikely to believe Lance right off the bad, or even him and Allura combined. If he can find proof with Keith, something might be able to change.

  He takes his camera and a notebook in a bag with him, as a way to stay grounded. He does snap a few shots of random things as he walks. The best one he takes is outside, a squirrel rests on a brown bench, Lance makes sure it doesn’t get ruined before moving towards the main building.

  He sees Iverson: knocking on the door, loud but doesn’t have much to say. Lance can can practically see the liquor in his breath, but by the time he tries to pass him, Iverson turns. Time to rewind...time. Lance snorts at his own words after he passes Iverson, though this time his drunk principal is simply knocking on the door.

 Keith waits for him in front of the school, Lance can see the truck pulled in. He raises his hand for a wave, Keith does the same. Lance makes sure to look around a few times before coming to Keith.

  “You look--” Keith furrows his eyebrows-- “bad.”

   “Wow,” Lance says, “nice to see you too pal.” Lance can’t help but smile though, however small, and Keith peers at his face a moment before digging out of his pockets and pulling out a set of keys. Lance mouths a _how?_ Keith only shakes them with a small smile in response. First freezing time, then breaking and entering? Lance is sure on a roll today.  Keith leads the way, as usual, head on, Lance follows looking in all directions. Lance pulls Keith to a stop when he sees figures in the dark. They crouch below, and Lance takes the time to listen.

 Sendak and Alfor stand outside the school building. Sendak is probably looking some form of dangerous, but Lance can’t see Alfor’s expression at all in the dark.

  “So...this whole thing is no hard feelings, right?” Sendak says, Lance can see him take a few steps towards Alfor. There’s whispering, but it’s too far away to hear. Even if he rewound, Lance wouldn’t be able to hear the contents. Sendak’s probably doing some sort of veiled threat. Alfor, for all Lance can tell, is still.

  “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I’d advise you go to the dorms,” Alfor says. Sendak pats Alfor’s shoulder before walking off. Alfor stands for a moment, Lance can hear him sigh before he walks away. After about thirty seconds, Keith tugs Lance’s sleeve, and they go to the entrance of the school.

  Keith makes quick work of opening the door, and Lance uses his phone as a flashlight and steps ahead. Keith paces forward, even though Lance is clearly the one with the light source in his hands. Keith only stops when they reach the principal’s office, and Lance shines the light on the doorknob while Keith shuffles through keys.

  “None of them work?” Keith goes through them again in rapid suggestions, lets out a small ground of frustration. Keith tries kicking the door open, and is about to run and find something else before Lance stops him,

  “I know someone who can help,” Lance says, “can you use your phone as light? Let me take out some stuff.” Lance digs out his notebook and pencil from his bag and dials Pidge’s number. Keith looks from the paper to Lance, probably a little confused. Has he never called someone in his life?

  “Lance? If it’s a shitty meme, can it wait?” Pidge’s voice seems to wired to be real at this time of night, but she is very much awake. He can hear her typing on her laptop, her keyboard was always too loud.

  “Sooo, hypothetically, if I needed to build a pipe bomb right now, what would I do?” Lance chuckles at the end, trying to end on a note of humor other than mild panic. He wasn’t sure it worked.

  “Cut the crap and get out something to write on. I won’t ask what this is about for now, but tomorrow we’re still on?” Pidge imitates his chuckle, but significantly more dramatic and high pitched.

 “Yeah, we’re still on for tomorrow.” Lance hears Keith whip around, eyes wide with emotions he can’t read. Lance just points to his phone and mouths _talking_ before turning back to his pencil and paper. Pidge gives a detailed how to guide on how to build a pipe bomb with things from the school, and he asks if she looked it up.

  “Nah,” she says, “I memorized it, I’ve had to do it myself.” Lance is a little more terrified of Pidge Gunderson than he was ten minutes earlier. He waves for Keith to come over, and shows him the list of stuff. They find it relatively quickly, and makes sure to follow Pidge’s instructions to the letter. Keith is somehow surprised that Lance’s handwriting isn’t chicken scratch, Lance is insulted. They put together a pipe bomb and set it in front of the office’s door.

  When the alarm comes off and half the door is busted off, Lance realizes he has to do damage control. He steps into the office and rewinds until the door is fixed, and a couple more minutes back for insurance. He opens the door to Keith trying to pry it open.

  “Hey,” Lance says. He feels a little smug.

  “You rewound,” Keith states, giving him the stink eye before entering the office. Lance might have powers, but they’re still low on time. Keith goes on the computer, Lance flips through student files. He sees Thace’s (straight As sounds a little fake but who’s he to judge), Sendak’s (who knew he was an asshole _and_ a straight A student?), and his own ( _wow_ seeing that was weird). He settles on Keith’s plans on making a joke to break his babbling, he expects to see he was expelled, doesn’t expect the IEP. Similar to his own, but Lance doesn’t mention it. The Koganes were looking after him when they were alive, Lance is grateful for that. He finally lands on Shiro’s file and opens it.

  Shiro is smiling in his photo, which is weirdly reassuring despite the fact he’s been missing for months and Lance is looking at his file. Good student, was in the volunteers club and more, joined the military after graduating high school. There’s something else behind the basic information, and Lance is faced with a copy of his...medical records? A lot is redacted, but the school’s influence managed to keep one thing crystal clear. Complex PTSD after military service. Lance looks through more. How the hell did they get their hands on his medical report post return?

   _What the fuck_ , is Lance’s first honest to God thought. Takashi Shirogane had left two years of military service with only one arm, internal bleeding, and various indications of...it’s not stated but definitely, _definitely_ torture. He was discharged when he was twenty one, and probably spent most of his time in Altea.

  He turns to Keith, when Keith turns to him, both gesturing to the other to come here. Lance takes Shiro’s file with him, and Keith stands from Iverson’s chair to flip through it. Lance looks on the computer. There’s a cover up of Thace’s grades, of course, a report on Shirogane’s activities, and a drawing. Shirogane’s excessive surveillance of the school is of no real surprise to Lance, but it clearly is to Keith. He hears Keith hiss something, but is too busy looking at the drawing to register.

  Lance doesn’t like the word disturbed, but he’s not sure how else to describe it. It’s chaos in pencil, holes poked into the paper, and words. The same words, to be specific. _Shiro in the dark room, Shiro in the dark room, Shiro in the dark room._ Keith’s hands slam on the table, and Lance jolts and turns to him.

 Keith is breathing heavily, eyes wide and terrified. His hands go from laying flat on the table to curling up into fists, Lance can hear the jingle of his necklace, three bullets Keith would probably use to shoot the screen.

  “Shiro doesn’t like dimly lit rooms,” Keith says, “he...who would _do_ this to him?” Lance doesn’t know what to say, so he closes the files, turns off the laptop, and puts everything in its proper place. He walks out, and waits for Keith to gather himself.

  Lance finds himself looking up _Takashi Shirogane war return_ , and finds two Holts were missing as well. Sam and Matt, father and son, left behind a wife and daughter. He sees a picture of a fourteen year old Katie Holt, and Lance feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Guess they’re in for another soul baring talk after all. But when Lance hears Keith’s footsteps come up behind him, he knows they have to do something.

 They’re supposed to go back out and brood over how shitty everything is, and Lance might subscribe to that later, but for now he knows _exactly_ what to do. That’s why he goes the opposite direction of the school entrance, and Keith taps his shoulder. His expression is confused and mildly annoyed, but still tense. Lance is about to change that.

  “We’re going in the pool,” Lance says, he smiles for extra measure.

   “And why would we do that?” Keith even does the hand on hips thing, Lance isn’t sure he’s conscious of it. Lance shakes his head in response.

  “Oh, you naive soul,” Keith narrows his eyes in response, “we’re going to the pool to have _fun_ , or did you forget the concept?”

  “I know what fun is, but I don’t get why we’re going to the pool of a school we just broke into!” Keith makes a shrugging motion, and Lance breaks into a broader grin. He can feel himself relaxing by the minute, and sees Keith doing the same thing, unintentionally of course.

  “Well,” Lance trails off for a second for suspense, “you have keys. We just had a bunch of life breaking realizations, and we can swim our worries in the dead of night. What’s not to love?”

  “Maybe I don’t like swimming, not everyone’s a water person like you.” Oh. _Oh._ Lance connects the dots, or at least he thinks he just did. He’s simultaneously thrilled at the prospect and angry at his younger self for not realizing earlier.

  “You don’t know how to swim--” Lance grins a grin he’s pretty sure is shit eating-- “that’s it. We’re definitely doing it, this will be fixed, and you’re gonna listen to your partner in time for once.”

  “I hate you right now, I hope you know that,” Lance just takes Keith’s wrist and leads him to the pool. Even though he has a sour expression the entire time, Keith doesn’t object when Lance’s hand ends up holding his hand instead of his wrist. Lance only half realizes he did it, but notes he prefers holding Keith’s hand instead of his wrist.

  The pool is pristine and chlorine shined, and Keith acts like he’s never seen one in his life. Lance personally prefers the ocean, and thinks he’ll bring Keith swimming there sometime. When all this blows over, he thinks they’ll have plenty of time.

  They both look at each other, not sure who’ll take their clothes off first. Lance wants Keith to to do it first, and if asked, would show less shame than he probably should in being interested in his friend’s body. But Lance goes first, and honest to God prays Keith won’t mention the scars. He sheds his pants comes up behind before Keith can notice that _and_ the lack of a bulge. That’s a conversation he’d rather not have right now, if Keith didn’t already know. Which he could, he totally could and this would still be awkward and _oh sweet Jesus_ Keith is taking off his clothes. Lance’s attempt of staying cool involves waiting for Keith to finish, starting for a minute, and pushing his friend into the pool.

  Keith comes up sputtering and red faced,  Lance comes down to say some bad joke and ends up being pulled into the water. He rises up with more grace, and comes to face Keith, wet hair clinging to his skin, a pouty look on his face, and gripping the wall like his life depended on it. Cute. Well at least it was until Keith proceeds to splash Lance relentlessly with one hand. So Lance splashes back with both hands, Keith uses his feet. Lance tries to spit water in Keith’s face, and Keith sets up a water wall to block some of the impact. It’s all fun and splashing until Keith’s hand slips from the wall and Lance reaches to grab him.

  Keith kicks on instinct, which is great because Lance isn’t sure he could explain that. Or anything really. Keith is clinging to Lance’s waist like a lifeline, and Lance’s hands are practically glued to the wall. Their faces are so close and _oh_ , wow their everythings are close. Neither of them make a move, and Lance wonders if the flush on Keith’s cheeks is still from being pushed or because of this. He hopes it’s because of this, because Lance is pretty sure he’s blushing too and really, what is he going to do _is he slipping no no no_. The position is lost, Lance lets go of the wall, Keith holds on to it. They’re still for a moment, until Lance decides to speak up.

  “So, want to learn how to swim?” Lance asks, he doesn’t want to look Keith in the eye.

   “Sure…” Keith says, and Lance proceeds to give regurgitated instructions for a brief time that soon turns to frustration and babble. At the end of it, they’re half smiling and breathless.

   “I’m glad it was you,” Keith says. His elbows are up on the edge of the pool, and he’s leaning on the wall. Lance notices his kicking is a lot less panicked, and glad something got through Keith’s thick skull.

  “What do you mean?” Lance asks. He’s treading water, facing Keith with genuine curiosity. Thirty minutes ago, he might have felt vulnerable and over exposed, but he’s safe. He’s safe with Keith.

  “I mean, not just for the powers, but like. I don’t think I could have done all this with anyone but you. I’m not gonna say it again, but you can be pretty cool.” Lance knows it’s awkward, because Keith hasn’t been good at compliments since they first met. But he used to look away when he tried to muster the words, but he looks Lance in the eye. It’s an overwhelming sight.

  “Hey,” Lance chuckles, mostly to hide how sappy he feels, “I’m glad you’re my partner in crime. And that you cradled me in your arms, and that I saw you again and stuff.” He turns to see Keith, with his small Keith smile. Lance’s smile is small to match Keith’s, but with no less feeling.

 “But that aside, we should probably leave. My skin’s starting to get wrinkly, I don’t like the feeling,” Keith puts his hand out as proof. Lance nods, and he climbs out of the pool first. He kneels down to help Keith up, and they slip into the rest of their clothes relatively quickly. Lance might have stolen a few glances, he doesn’t keep track.

 They hear footsteps at roughly the same time, and by the time Lance is able to pick up his bag, Keith has already found a place to hide. The guards come in a pack, and Lance retreats to the locker room Keith’s hid himself in. One guard enters the room, flashlight obnoxiously bright, and Lance uses the center lockers to block the guard’s vision. He’s moving back and forth, with the door as his turning point, so Lance laces his way around the lockers. He sees Keith making a move towards the door as well, and both of them run out back to the pool. It’s a straight dash to the exit from there, and it takes everything Lance has not to scream or talk while they rush into Keith’s truck.

 It takes Lance five minutes to ask Keith where they’re going, because they don’t live in the same place. Lance totally didn’t forget that for an extended period of time. Not at all.

  “My place,” Keith says. He brushes his red streak from hanging in front of his face. Lance feels sorry for him: for the wet hair (Lance’s fault) and the mullet (Keith’s fault, definitely). They just stopped a few seconds ago, so Lance sees the thin rubber band and hands it to Keith. Keith looks at it for a second before tying his hair up in a ponytail a few inches above his nape. Lance can’t even lie, he’s totally looking at Keith’s nape while Keith is looking at the road. Thanks traffic laws.

  Of course, Lance can’t seem too obvious. He sees texts from Pidge first, which he opens up to kill the time and as a ready excuse.

 

   **gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** howd the hypothetic bomb go is school cancelled

   **You:** nope, also we gotta actually, talk. abt stuff. more stuff ik u thought i was low maintenance

   **gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** ya same, n i never thought u were lmao

   **You:** wow u can at least b nice abt it. anyways wanna talk now?

   **gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** nah in person is easier, dont want ur trucker bf 2 see lol

   **You:** he’s NOT my boyfriend omfg dont u have like..baby stuff to think abt.

   **You:** ur like five ok

   **gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** lol keep telling urself that

   **You:** fuck u

   **gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** tell that to keith and u might actually get somewhere a concept

   **You:** i am v sure i did not tell u his name

   **You:** i never told u his name.

   **gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** OH WOUDL U LOOK AT THE TIME gtg bye

   **You:** WHO TOLD YOU HIS NAME PIDGE!!!!

 

Although Lance certainly is desperate most of the time, he knows he has someone else he needs to answer. He goes to Hunk’s conversation, reads through his date updates and smiles. He’s glad Hunk and Shay are going well, he deserves someone to match him in kindness, he always has.

 

    **MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:** hey lance are you okay text me when you can okay?? Please?

    **You:** shit im so sorry hunk. you’re probably asleep and a lots happened i just

    **You:** dont know how to explain anything its almost 1 am and im sleeping at keiths

    **You:** because we broke into schoola dn its all a mess but i want it to be a good mess

    **You:** also formal apology for every time i made fun of ur feelings for shay bc

    **You:** i might like him a lot?? and i almst fucking kissed him btu i almost lost a lot

    **You:** this week ahs been a mess and im not okay but im trying thank you hunk im

    **You:** really tired than ks im kinda wow i didnt mean to say that uch

    **You:** dont enve have the energy to fix it anyways im glad ur date went well ily gn

 

  Lance turns off his phone, and he doesn’t expect to cry. He notices the tears welling up a bit too late, that Keith has parked a bit too late and before he knows it Keith is handing him a tissue pack. He's facing away out of courtesy, and . Lance wipes his tears, unbuckles his seat belt to show he’s ready. Keith opens the truck and the shed door for him and turns on the lamp as Lance enters the room.

  Keith hands Lance a tank top and some shorts, and Lance takes them and changes without much thought. Lance looks up at Keith to ask something about if this was his only set, and Keith is already looking at him. He’s got his shirt peeled off to his sleeves and he hasn’t looked and _wow_ how did he manage to get muscle did those fistfights escalate or something why is Lance even thinking about this? Lance completely knows why he’s thinking about it, but he doesn’t think it’s the right time with everything that’s happening.

  They both get dressed eventually, and Keith takes two blankets and sets up shop. Lance stops him, because he’s the one with the nice dorm room, he can sleep on the floor again.

 “No, no, no,” Lance says, “I can sleep on the floor.”

 “You’re bony,” Keith says, and Lance would take more offense if he wasn’t trying to stay focused. But then, Lance figures out the best way to negotiate. They can both sleep decently, and not on the floor.

  “Ok, we can share. If you’re cool with it, I can take the wall side to make you feel less cramped,” Lance really should stop with the nervous chuckling. He does not stop with the nervous chuckling, but Keith isn’t too great with interpreting body language, so he thinks he’s good. He hopes he’s good. Keith just nods, slowly and looking as awkward as Lance feels. Lance gets into the bed first, Keith climbs in afterwards.

  They sleep with one back facing the other, and wake up facing each other. Lance should not be surprised, but he is for multiple reasons. The great thing about being in the middle of nowhere in a desert shed is that there isn’t much noise, and trying to keep listening to Keith’s breathing helped him fall asleep at a semi decent hour. Well, as decent as you can get when you end up at a friend’s place at 1 am after breaking and entering. Keith is an early riser, which is probably why the moment he fully opens his eyes he gets up and out of the bed. Lance misses the body heat, he always needs it with his cold hands and feet.

  It’s bright as hell out, and Lance almost checks his phone for the time, but that would mean turning it on. He doesn’t think he’s ready for that yet. Instead he looks in the mirror, and the fact he actually skipped his skincare routine is honestly the worst thing that’s happened to him this morning. The apocalypse might happen in Altea, but it _can’t_ happen on his skin. No, no way.

  “Why are you looking at your face so much?” Keith peeks over, and Lance can’t even be gay about the face his friend’s so close to him because he’s checking for pimples in any place they can break out.

 Lance turns to Keith, with the face of a broken man, and says, “I broke my skincare routine.”

 “Why does the fact you have a skincare routine not surprising,” Keith says. Lance tries not to take that as a challenge for approximately two seconds and fails miserably.

 “Please! I can like, completely surprise you Keith! I’ll knock your socks off.” Lance tries to smirk for emphasis on the fact that he can totally do this. Keith doesn’t even know how to swim properly, there’s probably a _lot_ he hasn’t done yet.

 Keith looks down at his feet, “I’m not wearing socks?” Ah, so he took it literally. Lance decides to amend his point.

“...Anyways I bet I can shock you,”  Lance says.

“How about you _try?_ ” Keith smiles to match Lance’s, and it’s infuriating and pretty and Lance imagines pulling Keith by his tank top and pulling him for a kiss. Lance does exactly that without thinking, it’s a brief press, they both stink of chlorine and he can feel Keith gasp a little in his mouth before letting go. Lance is pretty sure he’s imagining stars in Keith’s eyes, and he really can’t look at him right now, he’d want to kiss him again.

 “Uh,” Keith says, “I’ll go get you some clothes. Just...wait here. Or look around, whatever you want.” Lance nods, can’t find it in him to talk for once. Lance turns away, instead pacing around in the shed trying to find something to put his hands that _isn’t_ Keith. Because touching Keith’s things is a perfectly decent substitute, and cleaning is a great distraction. Like in the junkyard, Lance comes across a shoebox. Similar to the other once, it’s filled with photos, one from five years ago at the top.

 It’s him and Keith, age thirteen, in the Koganes’ kitchen. He remembers it well: he was helping Keith attempt breakfast in bed for his foster parents, and Lance actually knew how to cook a few things. It ended up in a decent breakfast and a lot of mess to clean. The Koganes had told Lance a day or so before that they were submitting the papers to officially adopt Keith. That’s what they left the house for, in an old car and a smile. Lance always figured they came back that day, but that probably wasn’t the case.  

  “You can keep it, you know,” Lance hears Keith’s voice from behind.

  “Why? Isn’t this of the day they died?” Lance asks, isn’t that in the shoe box for a reason? For Keith to keep it to himself?

   “It is, but you’re keeping it because I said so,” is Keith’s only response, but it’s a final one. Lance puts it in his bag, and turns to see Keith, holding up clothes that are too big for either of them.

  “They’re Shiro’s,” Keith says, “your clothes still stink so you can wear these.” He throws them over, Lance catches them. He sees Keith taking out his own clothes and figures he can get dressed now.

 Naturally, the clothes are big, and not what Lance would usually wear. A plaid shirt, with a black and white t shirt and black jeans, Keith and Shiro probably matched quite a bit. Lance wishes that didn’t sound as bitter to him as it did.

  “Keith,” Lance says, “Shiro is like...twice my body size why did you give me these.” Lance shrugs, then point one hand to his own clothes to compare the difference.

  “Because your clothes are messed up and these look good on you?” Keith says, and Lance doesn’t think Keith realizes what he just said until the flush comes up on his cheeks. Lance, being merciful and also flustered, does not take the opportunity to make a jab. Instead, he turns on his phone, the second bane of his existence. It’s around seven, which means Hunk is asleep, and Pidge is running off of roughly two hours of sleep. He sees her texts among a few from family, and opens them first.

 

   **gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** ok so reason i txted u was cause i should explain how shirogane knew my family

   **You:** ok? wanna meet @ dorms before class?

   **gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** ya sure, i need to look at more leads. cause like

   **gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** i heard he was seeing someone but i have no idea who??

   **gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** everyones like “he was an open book!!” like bitch no

   **gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** so ya anyways i’ll talk to u later bye

   **You:** bye

 

….shit. Lance is pretty sure he knows exactly who Pidge is looking for, and he knows he needs to tell Keith. He has no idea how to start, whether Keith already knows, if Keith had feelings for Shiro oh god what should he do?

   _Think long and hard about what you’re going to say,_ his brain suggests helpfully.

   “I think Shiro and Allura were a thing,” Lance says. Keith whips up to look at him, a mix of surprise and skepticism. Oh boy, this is going to be an adventure.

  “No way, he wouldn’t,” Keith doesn’t elaborate, and when Lance sees the look in his eyes, he thinks Keith doesn’t have to. But at the same time, this needs to be confirmed. If Shiro and Allura were dating, they can connect some dots before Lance is able to visit Allura.

  “Why do you say that?” Lance arranges things in his bag, hears his stomach growl. He hasn’t eaten since lunch yesterday afternoon, and he has enough money to buy something at the Five Lions.

 “Because I know, he wouldn’t do that. We told each other everything.” Keith’s tone pushes the idea that the conversation is going to be over. Lance isn’t having it.

 “Alright, let’s make sure then. But first, I want to get something to eat. I’m really hungry and I’m surprised I haven’t started eating paper yet.” He’s almost proud of himself before realizing he’d actually been chewing on his fingernails half the time. He definitely needs breakfast.

 

  Lance does not realize he’s about to find his answers when he sees a man at the diner. A navy blue suit, white tie, and orange hair with the most meticulously maintained mustache he’s ever seen. He’s drinking coffee in one of the middle booths, and Lance can see a journal and papers on the table. He’s about to say hello, maybe ask what hair products he uses, when Keith pulls him down to the booth and puts his finger to his mouth.

  “That’s Coran,” Keith says, he looks outside the booth for a moment to see if anyone’s looking. Lance almost asks _who_ that is, but then remembers. Oh yes, Keith stole a gun from this guy. So staying here risks them getting caught by a dude who deals literally _everything_ , but Lance is also very very hungry.

  “Will you buy me food if I distract him,” Lance says. Keith gives him an offended look, even though Lance is being completely serious. He’s already bordering trainwreck normally, and if he goes a second without food he’ll have to barge into the kitchen himself. Aiko might not forgive him for that.

  “What’s your plan?” Keith asks. Every time someone passes Keith pulls his beanie down even more, as if somehow it’ll conceal his identity. Lance breathes in, and out, he knows he has to be quiet, inconspicuous, but he can’t figure out codenames on the spot.

 Lance points to Coran, indicates he’ll distract him by pointing to himself then showing walking up to him with his fingers. Then he pretends to open a book, and moves his fingers to his mouth and back to indicate talking. He points to Keith, then the menu, then an eating motion, and nods to make sure Keith got it.

 He gets a shrug in response, and Keith instead decides to call for a waiter in the worst fake voice possible. Lance would laugh if his goal wasn’t to distract Coran, which he’ll do fine at judging from Keith’s job. Any semblance of a plan goes down the drain the moment he glances at Coran’s table. There’s a bacon and cheese omelette, which he’s very tempted to eat, a phone, papers, and a picture. With Allura in it, specifically a younger Allura. With Alfor, kissing Coran’s cheek? Lance’s gay drama was enough to handle, but this is a whole new bit of wild. So he rewinds, back to the booth and knows today’s going to be wild.

  “What’s your plan” Keith asks. He pulls his beanie down again. Lance knows it’s going to be different.

 “We’re breaking into Coran’s place, but not before we eat breakfast.” Keith again, doesn’t take him seriously, even though Lance added breaking and entering. Did that not entice him?

 “Why,” Keith says, “Coran literally lives in an RV? Also you’re ordering.”

 “Because Coran’s RV,” Lance can’t believe a guy like that lives in one, “might have proof. But I can’t think on an empty stomach. I will start eating these napkins.” Before Lance can start stuffing napkins in his mouth, someone comes to take his order. He rattles off four different breakfast, Keith looking at him with surprise and respect. Keith chimes in with his order as well, Lance is extremely tempted to start eating napkins, but he has his dignity.

 Lance eats four meals in about ten minutes, feels sick to his stomach, then rewinds to eat more slowly. Keith is finished with one meal by the time Lance is done with four, and Lance points to himself and Coran to indicate the operation is about to stop. Keith nods.

 Lance is not as smooth as intended, it takes ten minutes and Lance screaming that Allura is coming for Coran to take out his keys. He makes sure to walk back to his booth before he rewinds, he and Keith scramble at the diner while Coran is just starting his bacon and cheese omelette.

 There’s no frightening guard dog, only a few traps (let’s say Lance does a lot more rewinding than expected), and only a little bit of frustrated whispering before they get into the RV. Keith looks through electronic, and Lance looks at papers. There’s a photo album there, amongst what Lance is pretty sure is a pile of assault rifles, and he gingerly takes it from its place and opens it.

  He’s pretty sure Coran and Alfor were a thing, as there are way too many pictures of them together. Some with Allura’s childhood milestones (they were together for her preschool graduation), some with just the two of them. It’s weird how Alfor or Allura never mentioned it, but then, they never mentioned Allura’s mother either. In Lance’s defense, he’s pretty sure Allura’s mother isn’t a dealer who lives in an RV and wears navy blue suits. Coran is quite the collector, whether it’s weird antiques, gear of sorts, or photos for an album. Lance stops when he sees one photo is missing: _a + s, six month anniversary._

 Lance keeps the page open and tries to rummage for the photo, flipping through books, one in particular with written notes in a foreign language. Five seconds in he realizes these are all accounted deals, with foreign words as codenames. Lance would say it’s cool if it wasn’t so irritating. He finds the photo tucked neatly in the back of the account book, Shiro and Allura together. He’s kissing her cheek, she’s smiling and flushed. They’re even doing that cheesy couple thing where they share scarves.

 He doesn’t manage to figure out how to show Keith in a nice, supportive, way when he feels someone peer over his shoulder and step back. Lance puts the photo away, and turns to see Keith. He’s silent: fist balled, looking down at the ground, shoulders tense and heavy like the world just fell down on him. Lance almost takes his hand out, but Keith storms up to him, taking hold of his arm.

 “Don’t,” Keith said, “I don’t need to be coddled. He lied. He said I could trust him, he lied. Can we move on now?”

 Lance nods, “Okay.” He doesn’t think he can play therapist, nor does he think that’s what Keith actually wants. Lance isn’t sure he knows that either. They end up in Keith’s truck, Lance selectively silent, Keith driving with narrowed eyes. He’s biting his lip so much it starts bleeding by the time Keith parks near the school. Lance goes to hand him a tissue, Keith swats his hand away.

 “I don’t want to be touched, especially by you,” Keith doesn’t even look at him when he says the words.

 “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lance isn’t sure whether he wants to grab Keith and make them face each other, because he can’t just brood like this and expect to be able to walk all over everyone. Lance has dealt with broody siblings, it doesn’t fly in his family, and it won’t fly now.

  He doesn’t have to make Keith face him, not when Keith whips around and practically snarls at Lance. His lower lip is bleeding, red dripping down his chin and eyes so dark Lance can’t see much of anything past anger. His beanie’s half falling off, and the bullet necklace is swinging left and right due to the force of the motion. Lance sees Keith’s hands gripping the seat, nails digging into old leather, and has no idea what to do.

 “It _means_ you left too! And for what? Obligations? Right when I need people, they leave and lie and don’t bother explaining what happened? I can’t believe it took Shiro, the one who always said I was loved, to prove that I’m _alone_. So yeah, I don’t want you to touch me.”  Lance doesn’t want to touch him either, not when the rose tattoo threatens to pierce him if he so much breathes. Lance just takes his bag and looks Keith in the eye one last time.

“My grandmother fucking died. That’s why I left, that’s why I couldn’t come back. But if you want to throw a pity party, go ahead, but I’ll be the one making things right.” Lance storms out of the car before he Keith can register what he said. He’s tired: so, so tired and he wants to forget everything that happened. He’s tired of grieving, he’s tired, he’s tired, he sees Pidge and doesn’t want to talk to her.

“Hey, I really can’t--” Lance is about to escape into his dorms.

“My name is Katie Holt,” Pidge says, “the reason I’m registered as a boy is because I’m transgender. I went to find my dad and brother, Sam and Matt Holt. Shirogane was in an operation with them, and...he’s the only way to find out.” It seems practiced, rattled out, and Lance understands her world in that moment more than he ever has.

“And dysphoria?” Lance asks, his voice low.

“Yeah. Are you…” Pidge trails off, she’s looking away, and Lance can’t comfort her.

“I am,” he says, “and we’re both homesick too, huh?” She nods, and they’re standing in front of each other, awkward and still for a moment. She takes a step forward, wraps her arms around him, and he does the same to her. He can’t shake the hole in his stomach, and when she leaves he’s still standing. He couldn’t help her, he couldn’t say a word to comfort her. Or Keith, everything came out defensive and too honest and he’s a bottler not a coper he’s never been good at this. He doesn’t think he ever will be.

  He doesn’t remember how he gets into his dorm room, how he tears his bag apart and breaks in two. There are tears, and Lance is glad he’s alone because he’s never liked crying near people and he stares at the picture of him and Keith making breakfast and wishes he could go back to the start. He’s not sure when his vision blurs around him, but Lance stares into the past and the past stares back.

 Lance is thirteen again, and this time it’s not metaphorical. He’s stirring eggs with a pink whisk, a younger Keith is heating up the stove. They’re thirteen, cooking together, Lance can travel to the past with photographs. He knows the Koganes will leave after they’re served their eggs and bacon. He’s got to throw away their keys: but first he has to actually find them. Keith will stir the eggs if Lance is remembering right, and he’ll go wash the dishes.

  “Hey, I have to go to the bathroom,” Lance says. Keith is too focused on stirring eggs to respond with anything except a nod. Lance goes to the dining room, knowing Keith won’t pay attention for long. He digs around for keys, he knows Mr. Kogane doesn’t drive, so he just has to find one set of keys. It takes him a few minutes, but he finds the car keys and looks to the window of the house. It’s still open, and Lance knows what he’s doing is going to change fate. He does it and tries not to cry as time makes itself over again.

 He wakes up again, after time is rewritten, on the school lawn surrounded by people who he assumes are his friends. He’s naturally not too pleased when he sees Sendak and Thace in his circle, with the rest of the Galra club. Lance has no idea how to act, so he quickly comes up with an excuse and runs.

 Lance says he runs, but in reality he runs and listens. Most people in his world knew about Pidge to some extent, he doesn’t hear a word about her. He’s got a bad feeling, but there’s one person he needs to see first.

 He arrives at the Kogane house, it’s the same pristine perfection. Lance knows he’s fidgeting when he knocks on the door. It’s a sunny day in Altea, the Koganes will be alive, and Keith will be okay.

 Mr. Kogane answers the door, and the first thing Lance notices is the bags under his eyes. Must have been a long day at work, especially with the surprise in his eyes when he sees Lance. Lance looks down, sees the wedding ring is still on his finger, things are going well, Lance can almost sigh in relief.

 “Lance,” Mr. Kogane says, “it’s good to see you. You wanted to see Keith, correct?”

Lance nods and smiles, “It’s a pleasure to see you too, and yeah, it’s been five years, about time I came to see my friend. Was finally able to come back and all.” Mr. Kogane smiles at that, but there’s something behind it that Lance can’t figure out. Lance just wants Keith to be well in this world, if he was, that would be all he needed to permanently rewrite the past. The rest he can make work.

  “Alright, Keith’s in his room. I’m sure you know where it is, but an old man can show you around, right?” Mr. Kogane takes a few steps back to let Lance in and allow him to remove his shoes. Mr. Kogane leads the way, going up the light brown steps to Keith’s room. The door is closed, he’s probably isolating himself again. Lance has to remind him not to do that, it’s not as cool as Keith thinks it is.

  Mr. Kogane knocks on the door, “Keith, Lance and I are coming in.” He waits a few moments before opening it, and Lance follows his lead. Both Keiths have similar taste in bands, a weird lack of dust in a place that’s supposed to be lived in, and a couple weird things. Except these are machines, and Lance has seen enough like them to know exactly what this is.

  “He was in an accident,” Lance hears, “half a year ago he was in a hit and run. It’s a miracle he survived, he’s only been like this for two months. Would you like some time alone with him?” Lance barely feels himself nod, but he knows the door’s been shut behind him. There’s a chair near Keith’s bed, and Lance wonders how many hours were spent looking at someone who can’t respond.

 Lance sits in the chair, Keith’s eyes are closed, as they usually are when you’re slowly dying. His hair doesn’t have the red streak, his clothes are normal, and if Lance is crying over the friend he was supposed to help only Keith and God can see his tears. He takes a limp hand in his, and prays for the strength to start again somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^), might not b able to update for like a week cause i'mma be out of town (but in my defense the next chapter is even worse)


	4. grandma's hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everything is going wrong, but first, let me take a selfie!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i ripped the title from the bill withers song yes i used themes from it yes this took forever but also 9k words angst amirite  
> tws for character death, drug m, and violence

  Here’s the thing about hands: when life and energy and love come into existence in a body, they flow out through the hands. They’re the warmth of a spirit, they’re where your lifelines are traced, they set the course for readings and prayer and action. They show age and wisdom and care in every fold and finger, and Lance doesn’t remember when this philosophy started but he knows where it grew. 

_ He got his philosophy and his religion from his abuela before anyone else. She had more faith in God than she did many things, she believed in a plan like she did the weather, and his faith in her grew into a faith of her beliefs. Her hands were always broad and warm, she grew up working, no need for any moisturizer unless he gave her one. She liked her hair short ever since someone cut it as a prank, made her head feel lighter. She never liked things in her face, whether it was hair or his hands, she’d swat them lightly, though it was always too high. He’d yelp and complain and she’d take his hands in hers and wish the pain away. They were wrinkled and rough and strong and beautiful, he was the only one who saw the way they fell apart.  _

 He doesn’t realize both the Koganes are in the room until Mr. Kogane speaks up. Lance turns, hopes the grief isn’t too obvious. He still holds onto Keith’s hands. 

  “We set this up for him while he was still conscious,” Mr. Kogane says, “he never liked it, but we insisted it’d help him live. I know it’s hard, but if you can stay for a bit, I think he’d like that. He actually wrote something for you, believe it or not, and asked us not to open it. He’s always been private, you remember? Ah...you can leave for a bit. If you want, we’re happy to make you dinner, would be nice to use more silverware.” Lance understands the feeling of making too much for someone who isn’t here, and can almost laugh at the thought of Keith writing him a letter. He usually would, but it’d be hollow and wrong. He knows he’s grieving, but if he can spend time with the Koganes, to be able to stay with them for something greater than himself, he’ll do it.

  “I’d be honored,” Lance says, and he means it. There’s gratitude and silence Lance can only stew in for so long. Lance would usually say something, even if it was impulsive and poorly thought out, but it isn’t right now. The Koganes, Mr and Mrs, leave with a nod, and Lance sits and stews for a moment. Maybe he can get some air, think out loud to himself, do something, tell Keith about it later, even if it doesn’t count for anything. 

 Lance checks the time: almost one in the afternoon, he has time until dinner, but he doesn’t think he can be in the room the entire time. He sees a text, his vision too blurry to read anything other than  _ road near five lions _ . Lance doesn’t remember what he says to leave the house or how he gets there, but he does remember who he sees.

 Hunk is leaning against the diner wall, wearing his normal yellow, white, and black ensemble. Lance sees him on the other side of the road, and Hunk smiles. It’s a sunny day, but his smile is this brightest thing Lance sees. Lance walks towards Hunk, who came all the way from Louisiana to Altea for him. Hunk can’t even get out a  _ hey  _ before Lance slouches into him.  

  Hunk’s arms wrap around Lance, it’s the Hunk hug Lance never thought he’d get. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he notices his back’s being patted and hears himself choke out a sob. 

 He hears himself sputter a, “What’re you doing here?” Hunk gives a rumbling chuckle, and Lance pulls back to hear what he’s about to say.

  “Dude,” Hunk says, “it’s the news. With all these things happening in Altea, our families practically shoved me out the door. And even if they didn’t, I’d go myself, how am I gonna leave you behind Lance?” Lance could kiss him, Hunk is smiling, and Lance wants to wrap himself in it and forget every shitty thing this week. But Hunk gives Lance a gentle squeeze, and they walk along Altea for sightseeing and briefing. 

 “Do you know Keith?” Lance asks, he’s not sure which Keith he’s referring to.

 “Yeah, I do,” Hunk says. Lance takes a deep breath, it’s strange how Hunk knows he’s going to talk before Lance does. 

“Well, he’s pretty much brain dead. Or comatose. I kind of skimmed over the explanations because he’s just  _ lifeless _ . After all this time he’s just...here but not  _ here. _ ” Lance can feel the tears welling in his eyes, tries to rub them away. He isn’t succeeding.  

 “Things have been weird around here,” Hunk says, “I’ve been around for two days, two! Within two days there’s beached whales and now this? It must be tough being here, but I just wanted to say I’m here for you Lance. No matter what you need, we grew up together, no way I’m backing out now.” Hunk smiles, keeps his body steady. He’s always looked out for others before himself, didn’t worry about how it’d affect him. Lance would cry again if he didn’t start earlier. 

 “See?” Hunk says, pointing to the beach, “Apparently this started two days ago.” Lance sees four beached whales, lying in a row on the beach. He turns away before he can see the rot on them. They both quicken their pace. 

 “I don’t know what to do…” Lance says, he looks down at the ground as they walk. Whenever he trails behind, Hunk waits for him to catch up. It’s usually the other way around, used to be. Four minutes later, Hunk bolts in the opposite direction when both their stomachs growl. Lance is competitive enough to win, and Hunk is generous (and forceful) enough to pay. They share a meal both of them could have eaten alone for the sake of it, and when Lance says he has to go back, Hunk understands, as he always does. Lance does  _ not  _ tear up when they hug one last time, when he thinks of how grateful someone like Hunk chose him. Him of all people, who seemed to fail even when time was in his hands. 

 Lance comes back to the Kogane house alone, at around three, he’s led to Keith’s room, door shut behind him. It’s too clean for him to neaten up, too still for him to function, so he hums. He hums as he looks around, for things, for anything. He sees pilot manuals, a few models, and a journal. 

  “Hope you don’t mind me looking through this buddy,” Lace says. As he expects, there’s no response. He opens it, and to no one’s surprise, sees theories. Some about missing breakfast, others about assassinations, it’s completely weird in a way that makes so much sense Lance could cry. To his credit, he does not cry. He needs to be strong in front of Keith, he’ll do his soul baring later. He won’t be weak again. 

_ Everyone joked about him being the favorite grandson because it was true. Lance got the candy, the toys, he was the one who learned to knit and crochet from her. She got him out of trouble, lifted him up with arms he thought could rival Atlas’s shoulders. In return, he told her what he say, summers in Altea. She can’t come back anymore, she never says why, but Lance never pries.  _

_   When confronted with her favoritism, she always laughed and said, “The Father and Son have no favorites, but they have more power than us all. I am but a pawn, so I think I’m allowed that privilege.” He was just happy to be loved, as one of many siblings, he was never the sole focus of anyone but her. When they saw each other, it was Lance and abuela, no one else could intrude. Even when he cried his eyes out at her hospital bed, thirteen and lost, he was alone with her. She still sang praise, taught him and loved him, and he couldn’t even be strong for her. _

 For a while, he shuffles through things, photographs, all messily contained by his parents. It’s then when he sees a dvd, he looks at the case and almost laughs. Of course, keeping some off hand comment Lance said about not watching Star Wars being a travesty in mind. Lance puts it in the dvd player without much thought, it’s Episode VI, and he pulls the chair right next to Keith and watches. He wants to say it’s with Keith, because he wants to imagine him conscious, playing a prank on him. He holds Keith’s hand to check for movement, and immerses himself in a movie and the lukewarm feeling of being alone and together with someone at the same time. 

  Lance hears a knock on the door a few minutes after the movie is finished. He doesn’t want to get up to answer it, and he doesn’t have to. Mrs. Kogane stands at the entrance of Keith’s room, giving Lance a tired smile. 

  “Hi Lance, just wanted to let you know dinner will be ready in an hour,” Lance wants to do something for her. She’s been the almost grieving mother for too long, so Lance lets go to Keith’s hand with a squeeze and gets up.

 “I’ll help you,” Lance says, “I can work my way through a kitchen.” 

 Mrs. Kogane gestures for him to come out of the room, “I know you can, and I’m glad to have the company.” 

_ Lance was the resident vegetable chopper before he did much else, he was fast enough to work during special occasions and enthusiastic enough to learn from his mistakes. Most of his family said he did it for the ladies, but he loved the warmth of the bustle around him. He found multitasking as a useful outlet, cooking was what brought him home. To internet recipe searches and cookbooks and mimicking dishes from friend’s homes.  _

_   His abuela was the first in many ways, the first to teach him to take the Cuba out of Louisiana,  the first to bandage him up when he got too ambitious. “Lance,” she’d say, “why do you always need to be so tough?” He thought if he didn’t push himself he couldn’t be enough, and found himself learning to relax when it was too late. He was always out of time, wasn’t he? _

__ Mrs. Kogane doesn’t nown Lance is the resident chopper, but when he starts chopping what she has out she doesn’t say a word. They don’t talk for a while, Lance trying to hold back his impulse to, Mrs. Kogane not feeling a need to speak. 

  “You know,” Mrs. Kogane says, “I heard about taking care of your grandmother around town, she was a kind woman I hope she’s well.”

 Lance tries to force a smile and even he knows it’s strained, “She would have liked to hear that. But I’m sure she’s watching over us.” He looks up at the ceiling and imagines the skies she must have seen, he wonders if Mrs. Kogane is doing the same thing. He doesn’t look to check. 

 “I’m sorry for your loss--” she takes the chopped vegetables out of his sight into the pot-- “and I’m glad you came back, even if it’s for such a short while.” He doesn’t understand her sentiment, he was late and out of touch and out of luck. Lance chooses not to reply to that statement, and they work through dinner in silence. 

  It’s strange, eating dinner with his friend’s parents. No one mentions Keith, and when asked about life in Louisiana, Lance has an endless amount of stories. From those featuring his family, to Hunk, to those times he felt at home in the water on a summer’s day. He doesn’t have to say who taught him how to cook, but he mentions recipes. He doesn’t say why he never contacted anyone, but he mentions missing being here. They never pry, and Lance isn’t sure if it’s because they aren’t interested or because they’re grieving. Maybe he’d look at the nuances of their gestures, but he doesn’t think he can handle seeing them as people. He thinks they feel the same way about him. 

 Lance offers to wash the dishes afterwards, but they both make him sit down and wait. Mr. Kogane comes back with an envelope, neither of them have to say what it is. Lance does his best not the fidget, and stays quiet as they try and find the words. 

 “Can you...look around before you read it?” Mr. Kogane hands it to him as if his son’s life depends on it. Lance almost doesn’t want to touch it, but he takes it in his hands. He gets up, slowly, and not expected the arms around him. The Koganes are hugging him, and Lance is limp and about to cry because there isn’t anything he can do to respond to their kindness.

 “Thank you,” he says, and he goes upstairs to Keith’s room. There are no objections to him shutting the door behind him. He sits down next to Keith’s bed, opens the sealed envelope, and reads:

 

_ Lance,  _ **Lance,**

 

_ You know I’m not good with words, but I wanted to write this for you, because I know what’s going to happen to me.  _ **I have never been one for letters, remind me too much of what I’ve left behind, but I know I’ll be in God’s hands soon so I’m writing for you now.** **** _ I heard what happened to you, I used to be angry about you leaving me alone but now I’m waiting for you to come back.  _ **You were always here, even when I said I wanted to be alone, when no one else dared to enter.** _ I know you, even when you were gone for five fucking years, you’ll be back here, even if I’m not able to call you a jackass for leaving.  _ **I know you, and I see the way you look at me when my mind breaks down, when you started to see me as frail.** _ Shit, I’m terrible at this, but I’m also running out of time and there’s nothing that can be done to stop that.  _ **My time is coming to an end, I have written my will and I am writing this for you to understand my life has never been on your shoulders.** _ Don’t be ridiculous and blame yourself for any of this, you can’t be everything and everywhere at once, even in our pilot games.  _ **But that does not mean you did not light up my life, I’ve been blessed to have someone so devoted during my later years.** _ My parents talk about how things can cure or extend my life, or how I should make new friends or whatever, but no one really could replace you (and I won’t repeat that if you ask).  _

 

**Today I see the sun shining in my room, reflecting off the sterile white walls.** _ It’s always too cold in here, too white even with the posters, I’ve always thought brown was a warmer color.  _ **I remember you, dirty and cut up, patching you up and forcing you to bathe was always such a hassle!** _ You were the one with the last minute plans, the schemes and all, and I’d follow even though I knew you’d complain about being dirty.  _ **Eventually though, you found pleasure in it, finding joy in chores is bound to get you far.** _ Always so competitive.  _ **Always so endearing.** _ I’d almost admire you for a moment before you’d say something stupid, which was all the time.  _ **Your mouth worked faster than your mind, and you never quite learned your lesson there.** _ But I need to tell you something.  _ **Today though, I’m going to be doing the talking, and all I need is for you to read and understand.**

 

_ In the desk drawer left of my bed, there’s an extra morphine drip, and I need you to kill me with it.  _ **I’ve been told I only have a few days to live, and I need to be alone for this.** _ I don’t know how else to say it, I can’t be a liability to my family, and the moment I stop being conscious I’m already dead.  _ **There are things I need to say to God, and things I need to say to myself.** _ I don’t care how you look at it: as compensation, a last favor for a friend, but I need you to do this.  _ **I’m keeping you in my heart, and we’ll have time together in what I hope is many, many years.** _ After this, you have permission to forget, have a long and happy life, be a pilot photographer, anything you want.  _ **You have more in you than just being a boy, because you are strong and have so much love, He surely had the world in mind when He created you.** _ So please, close the door, do this for me, and know it will never be your fault.  _ **The will is coming soon, and I have a chest of sentimental things that will soon be given to you.** _ I hope you can understand this.  _ **I know you will understand this in time, thank you, Lance.** _ Thank you, Lance.  _

 

__ He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know whose voice is speaking to him, whose words are written in 02 pencil and which ones are in ink. He doesn’t want to know, but he does, he does. Lance walks to the dresser drawer, and sees the morphine. He wants to break it in two, maybe do it to himself because what did he do right for these people to be so forgiving. 

 He tears apart the letter but he can still see the words. So he sits, and waits for the world to shift. It won't shift, and Lance looks at the morphine and at Keith and knows what he has to do. If he could respect her wishes, he can respect Keith’s.

_ He almost kicked and screamed even though that would be throwing a tantrum. Everyone seemed to understand except him, why she did it. Why she was alone, he was showered with hovering attention and didn't let himself to reciprocate the love given. It was as if he was their channel to reach her, he was no longer thirteen to them. No longer the Lance they can trust with chores but not hearts, it might have meant something if he was happy about it. She died eight days later, he was the cleanest one at her funeral, not a speck of dirt or a bad joke in sight. _

__ Lance puts in the morphine drip and takes out the only way to fix things. He takes Keith’s hands, knows they'll lose the warmth and strength they had. 

 “I'm sorry,” he says, “I'll see you again. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” He doesn't know who he's talking to, but he doesn't need to know. All he can do is rewind.

 Keith is cooking eggs again, and Lance helps. He helps and he doesn't look away, he can't cry, he has to stay the same. Lance needs to avoid changing the past, no matter what, no matter what. 

“Keith,” Lance says, “you know you aren't alone right? I'll be there, even when I'm not.” 

 Keith cocks his head to the side before putting some food on the plate, “Okay?” Lance knows his world will end, and he just hopes Keith will remember. That's the only thing he can hope for right now. 

  Lance wakes up in Keith’s room, sees him standing, smoking as he looks at a pinboard. Lance fumbles for his camera first, takes a picture to prove this is all real. Keith still has his red streak and his tattoos and his shitty mullet with the beanie on top. Before Keith can lunge for the camera, Lance wraps him in the tightest hug he can muster. He doesn’t say a word.

 “What, did something happen?” Keith asks, he’s limp for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around Lance. 

 “Yeah,” Lance says, “but it’s okay now. I want to go to the hospital.”

  Keith doesn’t make a move, “I’ll go with you.”

Lance moves his head back, makes sure their eyes meet, “I”m going to see Allura, are you sure?”  _ You know, the woman who was seeing Shiro  _ remains unsaid. 

 “Do I really need to repeat myself? I can handle it.” Keith unwraps himself from Lance, takes a step back. He takes something out of his pocket, jingles his keys in Lance’s face. Lance nods dumbly, and follows Keith to the truck. Keith even lets Lance turn on the radio, doesn’t protest when he sings along to every song that comes on. 

 Keith follows Lance to the hospital, probably thinking the same thing. Hospitals haven’t been pleasant for Lance in a long time, it’s probably the same for Keith. Neither of them mention the smell, or the sterile walls. When Lance knocks on Allura’s door, Keith takes a step back.

 “I don’t know her,” Keith says, “so I’ll wait.” 

 “Okay,” Lance says as soon as he’s told to come in. 

He enters the room, shuts the door behind him. Allura is sitting up, surrounded by balloons and cards. She smiles when she sees him, and he remembers that a hospital doesn’t always have to smell like death. There’s a chair next to her, he thinks of another Keith and sits in it. 

 “Hey,” Lance says, “how are you feeling?”

 “Like shit, but better,” Allura chuckles, Lance can hear the dryness in her throat. 

 “Better than shit, huh?” Lance smiles, and Allura gives him a flat look. 

 “Shut up Lance, I’m here to thank you not listen to you talk,” She takes a sip of water from a paper cup. She’s smiling, and Lance has a feeling she’s going to be well in time. 

 “I don’t remember but about the drugs, if that’s what you’re wondering. They took me to a happy place.” She doesn’t clarify, nor does he expect her to. She’s been through enough without him nosing around. 

 “I think I know who drugged you,” Lance says.

 “I believe I know too,” Allura sighs, “and I know you’re not going to let this rest. Nor do I expect you to.”

  “Are you asking me to take them down?” Lance asks. She isn't smiling, her look is steeled, lips slightly pursed.

  “Not asking, telling. And I’ll do anything in my power to help you. Despite playing the fool most of the time, I’ve seen your work. I’d love to collaborate with you in the future.” She smiles at the last part, all danger. Lance is glad he's on her good side most of the time. Though he isn't sure whether she's talking about taking down two teenage assholes or his photography, and is too embarrassed to ask. How come the one in the hospital somehow has more of her shit together than he does?

“Oh I  _ know  _ how we can collaborate right her-” Lance waggles his eyebrows, leans slightly closer and gives her a shit eating smile. Or smirk, he forgot how the saying went.

“Offer rescinded.” She cracks a smile at the end, even though she tries to seem done with him. She stretches for a moment before putting her hands flat against her legs. Lances sees the scars, and once again his mouth moves before his brain does.

 “Where did you get the scars from? Seem grimy,” Lance asks. He pales after he says it, almost extends his hand before she clears her throat.

“Funny enough,” she says, “I got them from when I first met my boyfriend. I saved his life.”

“Ah, blast! You’re a taken woman! Is the guy good to you?” Lance puts his hand to his chest, as if he’s taken a mortal would. Allura shakes her head before taking a deep breath.

“He wa- _ is.  _ His name is Takashi, I pushed him away from a speeding car. Afterwards, he felt so guilty he insisted on bringing me food after I got to the hospital. They say the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach. Well that, and the fact we were both workaholics who had easy conversation. He told me a lot, so I did my own connecting to see what you were up to. I know you and Keith are looking for him. Takashi cared for that boy very much, and whatever you two are up to, don’t be reckless.” Lance can’t help but gape, really, she’s tired and strong and Lance admires that more than anything in the moment. 

“You act like  _ I’m  _ the one in the hospital,” is how he copes with the weird emotional overload.

“And you will be if you stick around too long, don’t you know?  I’m a taken woman.” Allura looks out the window as if he’ll come at any moment, and Lance wishes he would. Just so all this grief could be over, not so he can get punched in the face with someone who could probably crush him. Lance isn’t  _ that  _ kinky. 

 “I’ll see you Allura,” Lance says as he gathers his things. He walks out the door to see Keith waiting outside. He looks back at Allura, sees her mouth a  _ thank you  _ in Keith’s direction. Keith gives a small smile back, and Lance things he’s forgiving things one by one. If they can fix it, they will, they can. 

 “No wonder he loves her,” Keith says. There isn’t as much bitterness as before, Lance thinks it’s a start.

  “He loves you too,” Lance says, “it doesn’t have to be the same kind of love to be valuable.” Keith doesn’t respond to it with anything except a pat on the shoulder. Lance doesn’t try to deny the way it makes his heart swell, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to admit anything either. 

  Lance only asks where they’re going when they’re halfway towards school. He also has no idea if he has classes today, alternate universes did a number on his fragile sense of time. When asked, Keith takes out a boxcutter. Lance should probably be more afraid, he really isn’t. It isn’t surprising to realize against all odds, he’d trust Keith with his life. 

 “We’re breaking and entering,” Keith says.

 “Great,” Lance smiles as well, “your favorite activity.”  It’s only half sarcastic.  There’s comfortable silence for a few minutes which comes to a brief stop when they pull into the dorms. Lance mouths the word  _ incriminating?  _ Keith nods in turn. It’s all they need to break into Thace’s room.

 Keith is digging through stuff before Lance could say  _ booyah  _ at the fact they got in. Lance makes his way to the laptop instead, on sleep mode and without a password. Whats with these Galra guys and a complete lack of electronic security. Not like he was complaining, he was the one who got into emails. The first one he notices is from a Thace Sr. which reminds him of how egotistical or traditional a guy has to be to name his kid after himself.  Most related to academic failure, how his illegitimate son would do more than he could, and  _ wow  _ this guy is an A-grade asshole.  It’s clear where the pressure’s coming from, but how does he take it out? Lance doesn’t find much else related to that on the laptop, so he moves to rummage through what Keith hasn't gone through.

 Thace’s photography is always in monochrome shades or black or purple. Creepy, but the technique is somewhat compelling. He could get somewhere if he wasn't our drugging people.

 Lance pulls out the couch looking for a secret safe of sorts, or an incriminating photo. What he gets is a burner phone, and he puts the phone his pocket. He turns to Keith, who's looking at him expectantly.

 “It's a cell phone, and if it's hidden and all I think it's just what we need,” Lance says. He pulls out the phone for a moment before putting it back in. When he motions towards the door, Keith nods and follows him.

 They're halfway through the dorm hall when they see Thace, and it only takes half a second to realize he looks like hell incarnate. Lance raises his arm, and Thace rushes to grab it.

 “You did this to me, didn't you?” Lance doesn't know whether he's talking about the possible suspension, spying, or breaking and entering. It's probably wiser to shut up, maybe let Keith do the talking. 

 “Shut the fuck up and let him go,” Keith says. Keith should not be doing the talking. Thace’s grip is strong, and both of them see him reaching for something. A gun, the same gun he used to shoot Keith before Lance saved his life. Lance tries to pry him off while silently telling Keith  _ not  _ to pull out the box cutter.

Then, Thace falls over: face first. Keith puts away his box cutter faster than Lance could possibly tell him to put it away. Lance sees a fire extinguisher drop to the ground before he sees the assailant. 

 Pidge “Danger” Gunderson breathes heavily before poking Thace with her foot. He doesn't stir, and it's then when her smile turns smug. First at Lance and Keith, then at someone in the distance.

“Holy  _ fuck  _ glad that worked, aren’t you relieved big guy.” Pidge is wearing the same shit eating grin, and Lance wonders if he's hallucinating.

 “ _ Lance!  _ You’re good thank god!” His childhood friend, his boy, was standing there, shell shocked and anxious but real.

“ _ Hunk?! _ ” is about the only thing he can say. He's wrapped in a tight hug, which goes from comforting to  _ bone crushing  _ in a matter of seconds. Hunk then rushes to Thace, and he and Keith start patting him down. Lance hopes the look he gives Pidge is more shock than awe.

 “Let's info dump later,” she says, “I can talk fast, well not as fast as casanova--” she points at Lance-- “but it'll work, now let's roll!” Lance sees Hunk with a screwdriver and Keith with a gun, no one has to tell them twice.

 “So,” Pidge says, “I got into your phone.”

 “You  _ what? _ ” Lance should not gape, he's currently gaping.

  “Come on Lance, let the lady speak,” Hunk gives him an underserved disappointed look, the traitor.

  “Thanks Hunk, glad we're getting along well. Anyways, your grandma’s birthday was an easy password. So I got big guy’s number, did some hackin’ and stackin’--” Pidge is grinning by the last part, clearly proud of violating privacy even though she's a private person. He'd expect more of this from  _ Hunk,  _ who has negative privacy levels and will read diaries. Lance does  _ not  _ know this from experience.

“Is that a new white person term--” Lance hopes that will get her off his trail, he knows it won't.

 “I will  _ taze  _ you. I know what you're up to to an extent. We’re in. Tell us what's up.” Pidge does the slit throat sign to emphasize her intent, but it's more adorable than anything. Being fifteen and 5’2 makes most people way less menacing. Pidge is no exception.

 “Updog?” Lance says.

 “I will burn everything you have ever loved,” Pidge says.

 Lance has been told lying is a sin, and usually considers himself truthful because he can't keep his mouth shut. But this week has been out of the ordinary, and he's always been loose with the whole sin and virtue stuff. But what kind of person would he be if he lied to his friends? He didn't have to say anything about Keith, just him. He wants to trust them so badly he can't contain--

 “I can rewind time triggered by Keith being killed in front of me also he's my childhood friend and he knows I can do if so yeah that's my secret.” It comes out in one breath, and he sees the span of reactions in a second. Keith gapes. Pidge has the widest grin. Hunk is horrified.

“You saved my life back there?” Keith asks. 

“Would’ve done the same for me,” Lance answers.

“What do you  _ mean  _ this is insane what if you die have you been careful--” Hunk trails off into various symptoms that could result from time travel Lance doesn’t tell Hunk he’s experienced quite a few on the list. He can feel his family shaking his head at him by the minute.

 “It’ll be fine,” Lance says, “I know how to use it safely. Lots of practice.” And a lot of mistakes involving  life support and knives and guns and the smell of rain. He knows Hunk would understand his feelings about the rain that hides death being different from the rain he loves, but the rest would worry him to no end. Lance doesn’t want to dwell on it, then he focuses on Pidge’s grin. She’s got a plan, he just knows it.   “Anyways, cool powers aside, Hunk and I are gonna find a way to get you into the Galra Club party, you guys get to deal with the stached dealer. I’m small and fragile, ya know? This guy is my only defense!”  Pidge points at Hunk, who chuckles while shaking his head. Even Keith probably knows how dangerous she really is. 

“You know how to make a pipe bomb. You just took down a guy with a fire extinguisher,” Lance says. He tries to sound like he’s protesting, even though he’d prefer for them to stay safe.

“And we’ll take down this party’s guest list, you guys can do some heavy lifting right?” Keith still looks dumbstruck, and Lance decides to represent both of them.

“I'll ask you how you know all this another time,” Lance says, “but I think all of us have work together.”

 “Alright,” Pidge says, “let's go.” She leads Hunk into the campus. Hunk waves from a distance, and when Lance sees his determined face he wants to do better. He turns to Keith.

“To see Coran?” Lance asks.

“To see Coran,” Keith repeats. He starts off to the truck, and Lance hops in after him. Keith is mostly silent, probably overwhelmed in his own Keith way. It was cute, in that mundane way he hasn't been able to bask in for a while. If they weren't going on a time sensitive trip to see a drug dealer, Lance would have him pull over so they could do a little more than driving. 

Keith pulls a few spots away from the RV. He pulls up his tank, he and Lance both see the gun and the knife. Especially with Lance shooting someone two days ago, he wasn't exactly fond of guns.

 “So, what's our plan of attack?” Lance asks.

 “To attack?” Keith suggests. He looks so wide eyed and questioning for someone who's suggesting a possible homicide. 

 “Let's not do that,” Lance says, “we can talk to the guy. Remember, my time powers still exist?” Lance does a quick attempt at jazz hands. Keith gives him a look between a dead fish and a disappointed mother. But he pulls his shirt down and nods, and Lance is glad Keith has this much faith in him.

 Lance knocks on the door first, because unless Coran also has time powers, he doesn't know Lance yet. The door’s open in a near second, and Lance is still surprised at the immaculate grooming of his mustache. He seems out of place, strangely dressed and relaxed for the circumstances he's built for himself. Lance has a thousand questions, about him and Alfor and Allura, but he has to ask about the account book. And figure out how to.

“What do you want?” He asks, eyes slightly narrowed. But he doesn't seem to be drawing a gun, which is a huge plus.

 “I need proof that someone is dealing in school,” Lance says. Coran starts by shaking his head, then he sees Keith. In this order: Coran yelps in a ridiculous British accent, Keith almost draws a gun before Lance yells at him to stop, Lance sticks his body in the RV and begs for their lives before launching himself at an armed dealer. 

 “Someone drugged my friend Allura, and I'm  _ not  _ leaving until you translate your account book!” Lance takes a breath, Coran’s expression shifts from comical apprehension to something else. Lance moved back, they both stand up. 

 “So she was the one,” he looks towards what Lance knows is the photo album,   “I've been avoiding the news for a long time. And him, ever since the fire. I'll give you access to the book and the translations.” He walks towards the account book, and Lance looks down. He sees the wound on Coran’s ankle, like a graze.  _ Oh no.  _ He has no time to beg Coran or God for forgiveness, he hopes they won't mind it being delayed till after he stops the apocalypse.

“Here you go,” Lance is pulled back to eye level before taking the book, “I'd say to only take photos, but if she's being hurt, I can't bring myself to give a damn.”

“Thank you,” Lance says. Keith hasn't said a word, last time Lance checked he was staring at the photo album. Coran takes out a pen and paper and writes down what Lance assumes is the code.

 “Say, do you know Altea used to be a country?” Coran asks.

 “No, I didn't, is this is language?” Best method is to ask a question with a question, large families taught Lance some lessons.

 “It is indeed,” Coran says, “you can ask Allura about it some day. But it's part of the past now, and if it can help you punish the scoundrels who did this to her, I'll gladly give you this.” 

 “Thank you, really,” Lance says, because it bears repetition. Coran shakes his head

“You're doing me a favor, though  _ you--”  _ Coran points to Keith-- “still owe me. Sentiment hasn't blinded me you know!”  

 “Okay,” Keith says. Coran bites his lip, as if he could say more, but names a shooing motion. They leave with an account book and hop into Keith’s place.

 “Put this together at my place?” Keith asks, barely able to contain his excitement. Lance remembers the old VHS tapes of the X-Files. Of course, only conspiracy nuts like that and go this far in investigating.

 “You look happy,” Lance says, “but yeah, let's get this shit figured out.”

 Lance doesn't ask to turn on the radio, Keith listens in silence as pop songs come on the radio. They're so, so, close. If Lance can feel it, he knows Keith feels it twice as much. 

 They both are rushing to Keith’s place when the truck is parked. Lance sits down to translate the account book, Keith starts pinning things up. It's the most conspiracy theory thing they've done and it's damn well going to work. 

 If he thinks of it as a sequence, it makes a bit more sense. Keith gathers up all the information they have, some of which Lance has forgotten, and puts it up on a board. Lance rewrites pages and hands them to Keith, who pins up more of them in an order. When Keith asks, Lance delivers. Starting from copied pages to things on the other side of the room to hacking into the burner phone.

“Pass me the barn photo,” Keith says.

“What barn photo?” Lance asks.

“Oh,” Keith pauses, “you were out so I got into Shirogane’s stuff. He had a photo of a barn, Aiko had a spare key.”

 “They were  _ married _ ?” Lance has no idea how to feel about this, so he digs through papers before giving Keith a photo of a barn.

 “Uh, yeah?” Keith says, as if it's obvious. Maybe it is but it wasn't to Lance, and that's what matters in this situation.

 “Can I use your phone?” Is the next thing Keith asks, and Lance hands it without much question. That is until he heard a  _ holy shit  _ and the snatching of car keys.

 “We're going to the barn,” Keith says, “Galra owned. Everything leads there.”

 “Okay,” Lance says, because they really don't have time to waste.

 Keith definitely goes over the speed limit, Lance has to tell him when cops are coming for a bit before yelling for him to watch the miles per hour. Keith gets a little more careful. It takes about twenty minutes to get to the isolated red barn and half a minute to see the giant lock. 

“There's a lock,” Keith says, pulling out the gun.

 “There's a gap,” Lance says, pointing to the space they can squeeze in. They go with Lance’s idea. Keith goes in to search for trap doors, because every shedlike place just  _ has  _ to have a trap door. Lance goes through old files on the Galra, which is less biological and more clan. 

 Colonizers since at least the 1800s, established Altea by naming it after a country they colonized. Alteans immigrated here right to Galra hands, were treated as second class citizens until a new American population moved in. Immigration from Altea to American Altea seem to be ongoing as of… 2010? The final people will be that of the royal family. Lance sighs, so they were awful from the start. Good to know. 

 “There's a trap door!” Keith says, Lance is relieved to find a clue and frustrated Keith was right. Lance goes over to see Keith struggling with opening it.

 “Climb?” Lance asks, and Keith nods in response. Lance is able to stand on platforms to climb up, and he might rewind a bit so he doesn't get splinters. No one has to know.

 He sees the generator as soon as he realizes he can't reach. It takes a little more elbow grease than expected to push it where he needs it, but he uses it to climb, and rewinds just in case to bring it back up. There's a rope, a hook at the bottom. Lance ties the rope around the generator, and throws the other end towards Keith.

 “Tie it to the hook!” Lance yells, probably louder than necessary from the look Keith gives him. But he bends down and ties it, gives Lance a nod when it's ready. Lance expects the hook to be knocked off when he pushes the generator, not the whole door, but it works. He hops down to meet with Keith and together they climb below.

 Of course, as with most probably evil lairs, it's underground. And like those lairs, there's a passcode locked door. The pad has faded out letters  _ 2, 4,  _ and  _ 5\.  _ He thinks having four in the middle is a good start.

 “Hey Keith,” Lance says, “wanna start with five or two?”

 Keith shrugs, “Five?” Lance once again as mixed feelings when 542 actually works. Lance makes sure to open the door first, he doesn't know what they might see in there.

 The dark room seems sterile, and it is in a sense. But it's also a perfect blank slate for photography, and that sends shivers down Lance’s spine. There's needles from a distance, a pack of gloves, and bright red binders. 

There are various names, probably of people who live in Altea. Or lived? Lance isn't sure yet. There's Allura, which he opens first. Like they suspected, she's drugged up, and for once he hates that he was right. Then he sees an empty one with the name  _ Katie.  _ Lance rushes to open it. Empty, but that just means she's in danger. He has to call her once he gets out of this place--

 “Shiro,” Keith murmurs, and Lance looks at the red binder with the name  _ Takashi _ . The open it together, Lance holding onto Keith’s shaking hands. There are some with him, passed out in the room. Pale skin near blinding in the lighting, scars almost seem red. He flips the page in Keith’s stead, and sees Shiro in a different setting. In the dark of the junkyard, passed out, possibly  _ dead.  _ Keith seems to have the same thought, as he throws the binder to the ground.

 “This can't be true, we have to, if he's there there's proof right? We have to make sure it's not real.” Keith picks up the binder, slips it back in its place with remarkable calm.

 “We'll come back,” Keith says, “for evidence of kidnapping. We'll be back.” After he says his piece, he rushes off, Lance hot on his tail. He doesn't know if it's wrong to grieve for someone, but there are tears in his eyes for the strength, desperation, possible denial Keith has. Keith pays it no mind, Lance doesn't tell him to watch his speed. They get to the junkyard, neither bother to close the doors behind them.

 Lance is grateful for the fingerless gloves, because the dirt is lodging under nails, scrap cutting Keith’s fingers. Lance knows this isn't for him to do, so he stands, waits for the storm that may or may not come.

 Takashi Shirogane might have been decomposing for a year, but even Lance can recognize his face. The first thing he hears is a wail, Keith crumpling up on the ground. Lance crouches down to try and see his face. Keith starts to bite his lips, they're already bleeding. The wail comes back, it's loud and Keith balls his fists in response to his own noise.

 Lance can hear the pounding of fists on glass and scrap and dirt, he can see Keith leaning over Shiro’s face. He digs for rotting hands, digs and digs and digs just to grasp them. Keith chokes on a sob, rests his head near Shiro’s, and cries.

 Lance is slow at first, moving his hands towards Keith’s. Keith is still sobbing, but it's quieter, which may be why he lets Lance’s hands wrap over his. Lance can't have it be special right now, he's not the one dumped in a junkyard for a year. He's never going to be Takashi Shirogane.

“I'll make him pay,” is the first thing Keith says that isn't soaked in sobs and tears. Lance nods before realizing Keith probably can't see.

 “We will,” Lance says, “ we will, we will, we will. It will be okay, there will be justice and anything you want.” 

 “I don't  _ want  _ any of that shit, I just want Shiro back.” Keith looks up, red in the eyes, the face, and Lance can practically see the fire in him.

 “It'll be a bonus, revenge has perks you know,” Lance smiles weakly. Keith doesn't bother to respond, instead going towards the truck. Lance doesn't have to ask, he knows they're going to the party.

Other than the high school party scene, the first thing Lance sees is Hunk, slightly stumbling. Then there's Pidge, who he almost doesn't recognize because she's...actually feminine? Full makeup clearly not done by her (Hunk, Lance would know that contour look anywhere), a white floral patterned dress, and short heels. The real kicker though, is the lace front brown wig, as if she actually wanted to look like someone else for this. Before he can think much of it, Hunk comes over.

 “Hey, Lance, man we have to take a selfie. I want to remember,” oh  _ God  _ is he sniffling, “everything before it goes bad.” Lance sees Hunk’s face, and there's really no way he can say no to this. He mouths a  _ hold on  _ to Keith as Hunk fiddles with Lance’s Polaroid.

 “Fine,” Keith says, “you go make nice, it's clear I'm the only one who gives a shit.” Before Lance can object, or even think of saying something kind and comforting, Keith walks off. Hunk taps his shoulder.

 “Hey,” Hunk says, “if you need to run after him and all I understand--”

 Lance shakes his head, “I want to at least take a pic. Keith probably needs some time alone anyhow.” Even for all his talk, it doesn't change the tired smile he gives to the camera. Hunk hands him the photo before clapping his back and lightly pushing him towards the party. 

 If Lance did standup comedy, he'd definitely tell an abridged story of  _ so I was looking for my friend/dude I might love and he's in the middle of this party, and guess who I see in the crowd, my photography teacher!  _ It might get a couple laughs as long as it's setup, but Lance is barely in a smiling mood. But Alfor is there, all expectant, and there's no reason Lance can think of to avoid a brief conversation. 

 “Lance,” Alfor says, “it's strange to see you at these parties, you're usually at the next town over, what brings you here?”

 “Ah, well,” Lance can't help but bring his hands together to fidget, “my friend wanted to come, but he was so eager to dance he left me behind! So I'm gonna ruin his prospects whenever I find him.” Slightly stronger smile for emphasis, Lance almost thinks he isn't  _ just  _ good at bottling. 

 “I will leave you to it then, though I can say because the Everyday Heroes winners are to be announced today, I do wish you had submitted,” Alfor says. Lance thinks about his almost submission. Him, in room illuminated by candles, cross legged as he sees all the Polaroids of his family, his home in Louisiana,  his abuela. Maybe in another timeline, but now he has to find Keith.

 “I wish I did too,” Lance says, “I guess time got the best of me.”  _ In more ways than one _ . Alfor seems satisfied enough to wave Lance off, and the first thing he does is blend into the dance floor. He knows he has to get into those Galra curtains, and really doesn't feel like making nice (no matter  _ what  _ Keith says). He almost forgets he's on the guest list until he decided to give it a shot, and he thanks Pidge and Hunk the entire time. 

 Thace is nowhere to be found, but Lance spots Keith in an instant. Keith tries to act like he didn't notice Lance, but he's painfully obvious. Lance makes his way over in a heartbeat.

 “He's not here,” Lance says.

 “I know,” Keith says, “so we're gonna find him.”

 “And here he is, our beloved photography teacher, announcing the winner of the Everyday Heroes contest!”

A pause. Then Lance speaks up, “We’ll have to wait till that ends. We can watch it for a bit.” 

 Keith nods, clearly not happy about it. If he's sharpening a knife, Lance chooses not to mention it. Even though he too is zooming through the small speech, he perks up when he hears the name Katie Holt.

 “No…” is all Lance can say as Pidge walks up the stage. He pulls out his phone before Keith can ask what's going on. Lance isn't sure he'd care either way.

**You:** PDGE GET OUT OF THERE ITSSS NOT SAFE

**You:** LISTEN THACE IS FUCKING DANGEROUS HE MIGHT BE NEARBY AND WE DONT KNOW WHEER HE IS PLEASE IF YOU SEE OR HEAR ABOUt A DARK ROOM RUN

**You:** i ee oyu walking off stage pidge fucking gunderson you better answer me pplease 

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** I have to do this on my own. 

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** if i put myself out there people here might present more leads on my family i have to do this. 

**gunbird aka a bird with a gun:** I’m turning off my phone and nothing you do can stop me. Don’t ask Hunk either he’s long gone. Phone ran out of battery. Goodbye Lance. 

**You:** PIDGE NO

**Messages are not sending, try again?**

 

**You:** SHIROS DEAD HES DEAD THACE PROBABLY DEFINITELY KILLED HIM HES OUT THERE

**Messages are not sending, try again?**

 

**You:** DONT FUCKING DO THIS TO ME PLESE PELSE PLEASE

**Messages are not sending, try again?**

 

     “ _ Lance! _ ” Comes in Keith’s voice. Who's next to him. Keith, with wild eyes showing him a phone screen. Lance reads “ _ there won't be any evidence when I'm done with him,”  _ from an unknown number, and Keith pulls him out of the party before he can speak. Lance manages to yank his things with him before being thrown into the truck. Keith drives at breakneck speed, and Lance can feel a cold sweat creeping up on him. 

 They're running by the time they reach the junkyard, Keith diving for the spot where Shiro was buried. This time, Lance digs down with him. He doesn't hear the footsteps until too late. Doesn't feel the prick in his neck before he loses feeling. 

He hears a gun being pulled out, Keith’s, but there's a bullet so fast and slow and it's going and Lance yells  _ Keith  _ but he can't rewind he can't he can't. He sees Keith falling with a bullet in his brain, his necklace falling with his body down, down, next to Shiro’s. Shiro, this is about Shiro he has to rewind he can't rewind his head is fuzzy he can't feel his limbs. Or his hands.  _ Abuela, abuela, how I've missed you. Is this what it's like to to to heaven? Will I see the boy I love there? Why are your hands so cold why are they so cold I can't breathe you're not breathing help me help her trades lives and skins and hands if he could just get a Polaroid a Polaroid-- _

__ He looks up to see Alfor, as if it's a shitty standup joke. As if his photography teacher is a man possessed. Cold, cold eyes, as if they're already dead. Lance can't see, he can't breathe, he wonders if he'll feel the warmth of hands again, if he'll see them on the other side. Really, that's the only thing he can ask for.


	5. cause only you can make me so great again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the ring I'm losing ground  
> Knock me out I hear ’em count  
> But you put me on my feet and push me to win

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from the andra day song yes..this is short but the finale is...Soon B)c this is a mess its 1am but i wanted to finish!!!  
> tw: character death (shown and implied), forced drugging, it's kinda wild folks.

_It’s the dark room_ ,  is the first thing he thinks. His vision is still blurry, he tries to move. Restraints. There’s the part of his mind that wonders if the man ( _Alfor_ , he reminds himself, _Alfor_ ) knows Lance might be into bondage. Tight enough to hold down, barely bruise. But he’s so doped up he can’t move. He blinks again, and again, and again. He’s alone, completely alone except for the sounds he can’t comprehend. What’s that noise, as if the winds are screaming, he wants to remember. He can’t remember. The storm, is it already here? There’s someone next to him, he sees from the corner of his eye and turns his head and--

 “Pidge,” he rasps out. Wig off to the side, yet her makeup is still in place. Her dress is too pristine for her to have put up a fight. It makes Lance sick just thinking about it, she must have been caught off guard. He tries to see if she’s conscious, whispers her name one more time. He even tries  _ Katie  _ for good measure. She doesn’t move, he can’t speak louder even if it was safe to do so. He has to rewind, he has to fix this for Pidge and Keith and the storm. Was this the cause of it?

 Footsteps. Tap, tap, tap. Lance sees a photo, of him, drugged up. It’s resting on the car across from him, and if there’s one there’s bound to be more. He has to get a hold of one, one where he’s more conscious than this. He tries to pull out of the bindings, it’s a little looser on the right leg. He wishes he thought like Keith a brought a knife, but just thinking about him makes Lance want to cry. The tears can’t come out now, he’ll have plenty of time to grieve later.

 His right leg pulls the cart and he sees the photo he has to use the moment he looks down at it. He feels woozy still, and it takes all his effort and then some to focus. Alfor is nowhere to be seen, and Lance prepares for that to change as soon as he travels into the photo.

_ He’s being tied up. Restrained.  _ **“Still fidgeting even in your sleep..”** _ Oh God, God, someone help him he can’t leave now. Upright, bleary eyed. Why are his hands so cold, it’s the gloves, yes, the gloves the gloves. His eyes match opaque and cold. He-- _ **_you_ ** **\--** _ are afraid, of course you are.  _ **“I want to get this right, but I’m done with her.”** _ Don’t leave leave don’t leave leave where is he going who is she no  no no. Thud. She’s still wearing it if you said it suited her would she wake up please please wake up. She doesn’t wake up. You can’t move. Who is he, you, she. You’re surrounded by purple white lights and then you’re surrounded by nothing.  _

 Lance wakes up. The cart’s changed. There’s a new photograph. He has to get to it. The purple lighting is still consistent, so it’s before, he thinks it’s before. But Alfor is nowhere to be found. The only way to get out of here is to take advantage of him, and Lance has to rewind with all he has.

_ Even if it kills you?  _ a voice asks. He recognizes it, but doesn’t put a name to it. It’s too many voices at once. 

_ Even if it kills me,  _ he thinks. There’s a photo on the top shelf of the cart. He lets himself rewind one more time. 

 Alfor is in front of him, there’s the camera, he’s taking photographs. Lance wants to laugh, his possible contest was a picture of himself as well. He guesses Alfor is the real winner here, being able to take photos without any worries. How fucking hilarious. 

_ The journal,  _ his brain supplies. He’s so grateful he would cry if showing emotions around  a...Lance can’t find the words to explain who Alfor is to him right now. He’s not sure how this could have happened, what made Alfor into this. How a father his friend trusted was the one who turned her into a victim. It would be easy for him to not say anything, but he needs his journal he needs to make something work. 

Alfor’s going to walk away, he can’t walk away. Lance has to get something he has to go further he doesn’t know how but he has to. He takes a breath: one, two, three.  

 “What happened to you?” Lance asks. Alfor smiles, but it’s as if a mannequin took over a man’s body. Lance knows he looks afraid, he doesn’t think it would help. It seems like it does, as Alfor take a few steps closer. 

 “I’ve been like this for longer than you know,” he smiles, “but my desire to capture the beauty of youth remains unchanged. So that is what I’ve been doing, regardless of my unorthodox methods, I get what I want.” Lance can feel himself getting nauseous, but that can’t be his main concern. But he still looks away when he sees Alfor’s eyes. 

 “Why me?” Lance asks, “Why do this to  _ anyone?  _ Why did you kill Shiro?” He doesn’t mention Allura, he thinks that will hit whatever sore spot this man has left. He’d rather not test this when he’s restrained. 

  Alfor shakes his head, “That’s what you won’t understand. None of this was personal. Thace was the one who did that to Takashi, he was quite the nice young man. My daughter was fond of him, and he happened to be a perfect subject as well. Thace likened himself my protege--” Alfor picks up a camera before taking a picture of Lance’s expression-- “but he was too heavy handed, so Takashi died. I wonder if that’s a Galra trait, whatever personal issue Thace had was more with the boy Takashi hung around with than the man himself. None of that was personal to me, though I don’t expect you to understand.” The boy Takashi hung around. That’s all Keith meant? Keith, his reckless, relentless, stubborn, beautiful, strong friend? That was all he was worth to Alfor? An honorable mention and a bullet in the brain. Lance couldn’t stand it, he needed to escape right now. 

 “Then,” Lance says, “are my photos are that special? Why would you ask me to submit and then... _ this? _ ” He feels himself tremble at the last part, and is sure his voice picked up on his fear. Alfor doesn’t say a word, and Lance realizes he has to push a bit more. Maybe if he asked along this line, Alfor might be able to take out a photo. Any would do at this point, Lance couldn’t bring himself to care about the possible consequences. Not when so many people he loved were dead. Not when he was hell bent on making sure this man was  _ gone _ . 

 “Where is it,” Lance starts, “where is my journal?” Alfor turns to him, Lance won’t ever get used to those cold eyes. He hopes he never sees them again, all he can do is hope and hope and hope. He walks to pick up the journal and tosses it across from Lance. As if it was nothing,  _ is  _ nothing. Lance wants to spit in response, it takes everything not to. 

  “Consider it a last lesson of sorts, self review,” Alfor says before walking off. Lance has been taught manners, they also don’t apply to this situation. The page opens, to the photo he almost forgot about. Him, in his contest photo, the night before the Monday when everything started. He rewinds, to the start, to the start. Lance will fix this, and he’ll get a bit of revenge while he’s at it.

  He goes through the motions, of saving Keith’s life, of trying to hold back. He takes his time after the fire alarm, gets away from Iverson and figures Shirogane will be patrolling for people just like Lance. He’s right, and he sees Shirogane with a pistol and a club, Lance makes sure to stand straight.

  “You need to exit the building,” Shirogane says.

  “I know what you’re looking for, about your son,” Lance says. Shirogane tightens his grip on the club, and Lance raises his right hand slightly. They wait, breathe, Lance lets himself speak first.

 “There’s a barn, owned by the Galra family. Under there’s a bunker called the dark room, it’s owned by them, but Alfor is the one that uses it. That’s why people are drugged up. Please, just arrest him as soon as possible,” Lance takes out a notebook, quickly writes down everything he can, and hands it to the still Shirogane. He doesn’t mention how the man’s son is dead, those dots have to be connected on their own. Lance supposes the security guard is off to do that when he walks away.

 Lance pretends to blend into the crowd as they shuffle back into the building, eyes looking out for Alfor. It’s a bit for self satisfaction, a bit for an insurance policy (if him and his powers cause the storm distance might help) when he gives his teacher his submission for the contest. 

 “I’m proud of you Lance,” Alfor says, Lance notices the dead eyes that slowly flick back to life. Almost in a pattern, but that’s something the criminal justice system can solve. 

 “Thanks,” Lance says, “I’m proud of me too.”

 He walks away, winds himself into the dorms and says he got an artistic spark via text. He tells Hunk he finally submitted, Pidge not to do anything stupid and take the chance to rely on someone. Lance still gets the flash drive, still meets with Pidge. When she asks about the text, he says it’s a lesson from her elders before confirming he’s serious. He sees the truck pull in, and Lance’s eyes meet Keith he moment their worlds collide again. 

 “Keith?” Lance asks, as if he doesn’t already know the way things will go. He’s pulled into the truck and Keith punches the gas. It’s only at a stop sign when he pulls Lance to face him.

 “You remember me?” Keith looks genuinely surprised, and Lance wants to shake him and say  _ of course, of course,  _ but he needs to figure out what to say. 

 He supposes, “Of course I do,” is a good start, and the world goes on from there. It happens like the unwinding of a spool of thread, quickly and with random stops and tangles that all manage to be unique. The body’s dug up on Tuesday, and Lance insists on having them check the paper before Keith storms off. Keith shake and says, “I thought this would make me happy,” and Lance knows exactly what he means. When Lance gets to the dorm, he’s informed he won the Everyday Heroes contest and tries not to cry. He fails, showing a tear to Pidge and a fountain to Louisiana. On Wednesday they still sneak into the pool, Lance gets a message with Hunk and their families, Pidge is out in the cemetery, it’s he and Keith and he and Keith alone. Lance is casual with peeling off his shirt, doesn’t let the awkwardness take over when they end up in a similar position as the last time. Correction: he  _ tries  _ not to let the awkwardness take over.

 “Can I kiss you?” Lance asks, he can’t look Keith in the eye even though he’s keeping his grip tight around the pool edge. If he focuses on his hands, his eyes move to Keith’s wet hair, his shoulders, neck, collarbone, and low, low, lower. But the idea of looking at his face is somehow even  _ worse _ and what is he going to do about this ab--

 “Yeah,” Lance almost doesn’t hear Keith say it. But he does, and he looks Keith in the eye and sees the flush on Keith’s face. Oh  _ lord,  _ he’s completely and utterly fucked. As if he wasn’t the last time this happened. Sure, sacrificing a timeline was fine, but seeing him flustered totally took the cake.

  “Are you, like,  _ sure _ because everything happened and I’d totally wait and like you know-- _ mmph _ .” Well, that’s one way of shutting Lance up. Keith tastes like pool water and nicotine, he bites so hard Lance bleeds and Lance wouldn’t have it any other way. They could keep going like this, Lance maybe taking the lead, but Keith stops treading water and it all goes downhill (or down _ pool _ ) from there. Sort of. Keith almost drowns, Lance laughs, Keith kisses Lance and they drive back and kiss again without dares or pretense or the end of the world. 

 “I’m going to San Francisco tomorrow,” Lance says, “wanted to take you, but have to go with stick up the ass Iverson.” Keith cocks his head in confusion, but nods when Lance says  _ “He’s serious, too serious”.  _ They fall asleep to that thought, and Lance knows they’ll only have more time from here. 

 Keith drives Lance, who still ends up in Shiro’s clothes with a whole lot less nostalgia, to the diner to grab a meal. There’s no blue suited man or RV, and Lance makes sure to treat them both this time. He’s a rich man, prize money helps with that. Keith tries to elude him, Aiko tries to Mom™ him, but Lance is stubborn and makes sure to leave a large tip. They go back to the dorm, where Lance drags Keith into his room to help pack. They can barely hold hands without blushing, the stumbling mess of it all makes Lance remember time is in his hands. 

 Keith tries to drive him to the airport, but Iverson has already secured a ride. Lance pecks Keith before he leaves, yelling a  _ we’ll talk later  _ without daring to look at Keith’s face. He instead looks at Iverson, a much less appealing sight. They’re silent through the car, customs, and only speak during the plane ride. 

 “I’m no good with this stuff,” Iverson says as he looks out the window, “but with everything that’s been happening, I think this is pretty nice.”

 “Yeah,” Lance says, “I think so too.” He closes his eyes after that for a moment, but of course has to have difficulty sleeping. As always, so he ends up waking up a snoring Iverson. He doesn’t hate it as much as he thought he would, but doesn’t see himself getting used to the fact. It’s around 3 PM when they land over in San Francisco, but the fog  _ bites _ . Lance makes sure to bring a jacket with him when he leaves the hotel room in a suit, along with his photo and Polaroid. Iverson already seems stiff even without the coat, but Lance doesn’t comment. 

 This is fucking  _ amazing _ . Lance can feel the money in the snacks, the alcohol Iverson drifts towards, but he has to force himself not to run and see the art that surrounded him. What surprises him the most is how people stop him to compliment his work, whether it’s those who sympathize, empathize, or use bad Spanish to try and say how his work looked. But it’s as perfect as Lance is gonna get, so he takes his time to wander until he reaches his piece. 

 It’s in the back, his photo, and he wishes everyone he loves could see what he did. His family back home couldn’t come, neither could Hunk or Pidge or Keith, but they sent all their love and he felt it as he looked at his photograph. He might have cried if he was alone, but he doesn’t. Instead he looks at what he’s created, what his past is, what his future--

_ If it’s the lighthouse, it will be okay. That’s what Lance should be looking for. The eye of the storm was still in his hands, why did he try and throw it away, why why why why-- _

__ Lance opens his eyes, and runs to turn on his phone. Voicemails. Keith, Keith, Pidge, Keith, Keith, Keith, Keith. He can only listen to the sound of the storm and Keith his footsteps his vice his cries for help. They’re all Lance needs to hear to know he failed. He looks around, at what he could have had, and tears the photograph that got him there. 

He can open his eyes again, wide awake, Alfor pacing with a syringe, his journal ash on the ground. Pidge is gone, probably dead. But he can’t let himself cry, even if he rewinds, he doesn’t want Alfor to get any satisfaction from his suffering. He can’t let any of this happen again, but he doesn’t know what else to do.. If he stalls him, there could be a chance to get another photo. A part of him knows there probably aren’t any, but he needs the bit of hope. Maybe talking to him can be let Lance think. Lance thought he’d have more questions for the person who was doing all this, now all he wants to do is fix time to what it should be. 

 “Why would you do this,” Lance asks. His voice feels heavy when he tries to go above a whisper, but he has to stall, or ask, or do  _ something  _ so he can get out of here. Lance hears a hum, Alfor standing over him with those same cold eyes. 

 “The Galra are my only way to survive, I had to do  _ something  _ to pass the time,” he smiles, as if it’s all a fucking  _ game _ . Lance, almost mouth before brain, spits at him. It could warrant a reaction, which might be what Lance needs. Though it’s mostly because of spite.

  “You sick fuck,” Lance makes sure to keep eye contact, “is this what your daughter, your family mean to you? You’d sell them out just to stay entertained in  _ Altea _ ? Why couldn’t you be happy for your family--” 

 Lance feels the burn on his cheek before he comprehends he’s been slapped. He looks up again, glazed over eyes meet Lance’s. He wishes the pieces didn’t connect, that he didn’t realize Alfor  _ was  _ all these things to all people...once. That family resemblance didn’t run in the eyes for father and daughter so Lance couldn’t tell what glazed over eyes looked like on their faces. Even if he could save the town or the world, he doesn’t think he can save his photography teacher. He sure as hell doesn’t want to either. 

 “You’re getting too restless,” Alfor taps the syringe, Lance hears himself pleading  _ no, no, no _ , “young people have the world in their hands. Thinking they and everything they’ve built is invincible,” he pushes Lance’s neck to the side. The prick happens so quickly Lance almost doesn’t realize it happened, but he’ll never forget that sensation. 

 “You know,” Alfor says, “I’ve always wanted to capture that…” And he prepares for his world to disappear. It doesn’t. He sees Shirogane halfway in room the moment Alfor is about to dose him. Shirogane is hit in the head, hit, and hit, and hit, and killed. Lance reaches out before he can think, he knows he has to stall Alfor. Shirogane is his only chance of escape. 

  “You’re getting too restless,” Alfor says, he’s tapping the syringe, Lance has to do  _ something _ . 

  “Wait,” Lance says, “could I have...one last request?”

   Alfor sighs, lowering the syringe, “I suppose I can give you that, my daughter’s fond of you after all.” Lance thinks for a moment, about what he knows and doesn’t know and what he’s going to have to predict and rewind to make it out. He doesn’t know a lot of thing, but he knows water. 

  “Could I get a cup of water?” Lance asks. Alfor shrugs, and walks to fill a cup with tap water and put it on the cart to push towards Lance. He sees Shirogane from the distance, and keeps himself prepared. 

 “Watch your head!” Lance yells. Shirogane ducks, but it’s not enough. Alfor gets the better of him soon enough, Lance rewinds before he thinks. Shirogane ducks, Lance looks for something to throw, and gets the camera off the ground. His aim is good ( _ as always, _ he tries to boast), and before Alfor can get to him he kicks the cart towards him. The water isn’t sulfuric acid or whatever shit Pidge works with, but it distracts Alfor enough for Lance to pull the cord and let Shirogane get the jump on him.  

 He’s silent when he gets Lance out of the restraints. But Shirogane helps Lance up for a moment before he’s steady. They’re at the entrance of the dark room when he finally looks at Lance. It’s been a few days, but it feels like years. Something about him seems tired, as if he’s grieving. It takes Lance a moment to remember he is, that Shiro is short for Shirogane. He wants to say he’s sorry, but he’s not sure Shirogane would be fond of sympathy. 

 “He’s dead isn’t he,” Shirogane says, “my son is dead.” Lance looks away, towards the binders, and Shirogane paces towards them. He hears the thud of the binder on the ground, it might be funny how two people who can’t stand each other had the same reaction, but Lance is tired. 

 “Did that kid find him? Or did you?” Lance sees it now. Shiro and his father have the same eyes and nose, except Shirogane has that 5 o’clock shadow and the military cropped hair. His eyes are narrowed, as if he’d kill Lance if he so much as breathed wrong. Lance can’t bring himself to care much about this man, but he does owe the truth.

  “He’s dead, Keith found him first. But he’s dead too, so all you get is me--” Lance narrows his eyes back, not bothering to hold back his bitterness-- “guess you were too late for the good stuff?” He called Keith a rat, and stalked and screamed and spied but this is when he comes in? To save  _ Lance _ ? Not Keith, not Pidge, just him. He wants to fix this already, doesn’t want to waste his time with this man anymore. 

 Shirogane looks him in the eye, “My son is dead. He’s.. _ dead  _ because of that family _ , _ ” Lance can hear Shirogane choke up on his words, “and I couldn’t manage to do a thing about it. So, boy, I’m not going to let you stop me from doing this.” Shirogane takes out his gun and fires. Deafening sound repeated, and Lance’s photography teacher has three bullets to the brain. He wishes he could feel more abou it that wasn’t tucked away, but he’ll fix it. He’ll fix everything. 

 Shirogane crouches down at the body, digging out something and tossing it over. Lance catches them before he sees they’re Alfor’s car keys. The car that can take him to the only photo he can use. Lance opens his mouth for a question and Shirogane shakes his head.

 “Don’t,” he says, “I still need to be here, just go.”

  Lance thanks him on the way out and gets no response. It doesn’t take much time to find the shiny black car, and Lance is no stranger to driving (even if Keith never knew that, he’s sure they could find out one day, he wants them to find out in a timeline that isn’t fucked). He takes out his phone, and plays the message without much thought. He’s driven in the sun, the rain, and one time a storm when he was twelve (in his defense, it was Louisiana), but this is a mess. Debris piled around him, creating makeshift winds and turns. It’s then when he hears the message.

 

_ “Hi, I found your number. This is Thace..Junior. I know you don’t want to listen to me, but be careful with Alfor. Don’t trust him. He...he used me. He said I could be like him, and I could use Shiro, and I used too much and I don’t know. I tried to get to his daughter to get back at him, me and Sendak, but he didn’t feel a thing. I’ve never been so afraid of someone in my life, not even my father. But there’s no hope for me. I can’t, can’t get out now. I think he’s coming for me I can hear him coming Lance don’t get near him please please I’m begging you--” _

 

__ Lance keeps on driving, he doesn’t know what else to think. Except how this was the perfect ruining, the best explanation he or Keith should have happened. But it was all too late, and there was nothing he could do about it, even if he can rewind time. He does know he can get the past through Hunk’s photo. Alfor has to pay, in a way only Lance can deliver. He has a feeling he needs to go to Five Lions, people would hole up there during a storm. The car is quickly blocked by debris, and Lance tries rewinding. He can’t go far enough, and he doesn’t want to the moment he sees a man’s leg under a beam.

 “I’ll lift it with you,” Lance says, and the man nods. It takes a rewind and his arms are sore as hell by the end of it. That doesn’t change how Lance helps the man towards makeshift shelter and wishes him the best. 

 “You too,” the man says, “don’t know what you’re lookin’ for, but it’s gonna be a hell of a fight.” Lance gives a mock salute, because honestly he’s completely right. But it’s a fight Lance is willing to have, if it’s for a better timeline, for Keith, he’ll do a lot of things. So he lifts and carries and crawls through a hole in the building only to see a path blocked by fire. Lance flips the switch on the fuze box without much thought until the fire calms and he hears something collapse.

 In the next room over, through a window, a man lays in a pool of water. Lance can see his face and knows he’s dead. He just killed someone, there’s a dead man and Lance feels the bile creeping up. He wants to throw up and stay and rest until the storm passes and he can pretend it’s okay. He can’t do that. 

 Lance goes into the next room, checks the man’s pulse to confirm his own crime. Then he rewinds until the man is upright, leaning against the wall in a pool of water. Lance takes his shoulders and shakes the man. He can’t rewind any further, he sees the marks and cuts on the man’s skin. But he has to wake up, Lance isn’t sure where to bring him for safety, but dragging a wounded body isn’t a great idea. 

 The man wakes up, wide eyed and startled. As if  _ he’s  _ the one in the wrong place. That’s quickly changed when he ses the pool of water and the fuze box. Lance helps him up and makes sure he gets away from the water before flipping the switch. The fire’s gone, no one died, and Lance can hopefully forget safely. Lance leaves the building and goes towards the diner, hopes there aren’t any other disasters.

 Lance is almost at the diner when it blows up, and he rewinds before everything goes to pieces. He can’t bear seeing more people die, two people was too many for a day. If he thinks of the week, he remembers all the ways Keith died. Too many to count, or think about. Lance searches for the source of the explosion. If needed, he’ll pull everyone out one by one. 

_ Even if it kills you?  _ a voice asks. It sounds a little like Keith.

_ If it kills me, it’ll be when I rewind back to the past,  _ Lance thinks. He sees the flaming trail of gasoline coming towards the diner. Lance rewinds, but the water in the past building wouldn’t be enough. There might be a supply or something near the diner. So he rewinds to walk towards it, and finds a box of sand. That’ll stop it, and Lance rewinds after bringing it to the fire and spreads it around the trail. He waits, long and longer moments until nothing happens. The diner doesn’t blow up, and Lance starts walking. 

 He goes to the front, pounds the door a few times only to find it blocked. Lance almost doesn’t see the side entrance seems open because of the dead whale, lying in the middle of fire and storm. He finds it though, the opens the door with little effort. Lance imagines a scene: he and Keith entering the diner. Aiko is behind the counter, once again surprising people with her inability to let anything fall. There are truckers and a family, the usual crowd, and they walk to the booth they sat in on Tuesday. It’s occupied. Pidge and Hunk are talking about building a gaming computer, with Allura looking confused. Lance sit in the middle, Keith to his left.  _ There’s someone else coming,  _ Keith says.  _ We’ll tell him when he comes,  _ Lance says, and his hand looks for Keith’s. Under the diner table, waiting and watching. Everything is going to be kay.

  What actually happens: the diner is dimly lit, he’s alone, Aiko is comforting people even though he can see her hands shake from this distance, and he sees Hunk and Allura before either of them see him. Hunk is the first to notice, and he looks up with tired eyes and a small smile before tapping Allura’s shoulder. 

 Allura walks over the Lance first, and he doesn’t expect the tight hug he gets. Or the steeled look she gives him before looking away. He knows the route from the diner to the junkyard by now, he doesn’t know what to say. Whether she knows or not, he never did get back to her. 

  “He’s gone,” Lance doesn’t know which one he’s talking about. Allura sighs, and Lance can see the tears welling up. He knows not to mention it. She runs her hands through her hair, he can’t find a kink in it. Still seems put together even with tears in her eyes, Lance would envy it if she didn’t just lose everyone she ever loved. 

 “I wanted to hope,” Allura says, “about both of them. I knew, after the fire, that my father wouldn’t be the same. But--” she wipes the tears from her eyes-- “I wanted to  _ hope _ . That maybe things would work. I’m sorry. If I had just been stronger--”

 Lance shakes his head, “No you don’t. You’re not the one at fault here for not seeing or realizing or whatever. I don’t know what happened, but I know you can’t be this hard on yourself. Take a break Allura.”

 “I don’t know the meaning of the word,” she says. But she does go to sit on a stool and talk with Aiko. Hunk is still there, looking down at something, and Lance would be the worst friend if he didn’t talk to him,

 “Hey man,” Lance says as he sits next to Hunk, “sorry you had to come here when the apocalypse was happening.” That was probably  _ not  _ what Lance should have said, but Hunk’s the one person used to his shit. So when he starts to nod, Lance wraps his arms around him. He knows alternate realities don’t really count, but he still feels weird about crying into Hunk two days in a row. But Hunk is crying too, and he’s way less subtle about it. 

 Lance doesn’t bother mentioning the snot, or the tears running into his hair. Hunk’s doing all the work for him. Lance feels himself smile against Hunk’s chest, he’s probably a red and blotchy mess, but his best friend being the same way makes him feel a hell of a lot better about it. 

 “Do you have th’ photo from the party,” Lance asks. It’s muffled enough for only Hunk to decipher, something he’s more than grateful for. He’s glad he trusted Hunk, it’s one of them few decent choices he made. 

  “Can you rewind through it?” Hunk is so quiet it’s almost murmured in Lance’s hair. Lance nods before pulling back. They’re both red faced as Hunk hands Lance he photo. He can’t believe it’s been less than twenty four hours and they looked so happy.

 “Do your thing Mr. Hero,” Hunk smiles as if Lance can control it all. He has more faith in Lance than Lance has in himself. It usually wouldn’t be reassuring, but Hunk continues to be an exceptional exception. Lance gives a cheesy wink and a bit of a flex, and Hunk shakes his head in response.

“I love you Hunk,” Lance smiles, he hopes it doesn’t look as tired as he sounds.

“I love you too Lance, that’s why I know you’ll make the right choice,” Lance gives him a blank look before Hunk continues, “seriously! You might be ridiculous but you have good instincts, I trust you with this, okay?” Lance nods, slow and doubting. 

 “Alright,” Lance says, “I’ll like the wise man Tim Gunn said--”

 “Make it work,” Hunk says. 

 “Damn right,” Lance says, “now let me focus on this.” 

 He’ll save this, he’ll do what he can. And when he sees Keith’s face, he’ll try his best not to kiss him. He does have some tact. He’ll do this, he knows he can. He’ll finish it once and for all. His mind is silent when he rewinds, from the repetition of the dark room to Shirogane and Thace and Alfor, Pidge’s body and the absence of it, and he opens his eyes on a Thursday night.  

 The photo leaves five people about to scatter, and Lance passes the baton to Hunk without thinking. When Lance says something concerning, Hunk switches from anxious and thoughtful to act first think later for around fifteen seconds. It’s a special best friend privilege that Lance is proud of have. So he thinks, post tipsy Polaroid photo, and take out his phone the moment Hunk and Pidge mix into the building. Keith is just about to push him away, so that will have to wait a few minutes.

  “Alfor’s the one running the dark room, Keith the text you’re gonna get from Thace is bait, because at this point Alfor probably killed Thace. Or is about to, and I might be magical but I can’t fix that.” Lance babbling actually helps this time, as Keith’s movement stills.

 “Did you rewind?” Keith asks, even though the answer is obvious.

 “Yeah,” Lance says, “and we have to find shelter for when the storm hits. We’re gonna survive this, okay?” Lance’s hands ghost over Keith’s shoulders before touching them. Keith lets him.

 “I’m gonna get revenge,” Keith says, “you know that right?”

Lance smiles before shaking his head, “Of course I do, wouldn’t expect anything less. But for now we just gotta live through it.”

When they get into the truck, Lance texts Hunk, and when he gets something back he thinks they can ride through it. It’s the rain that starts, it’s getting colder, they have to get to the lighthouse. Lance knows it’ their only chance, if his visions have been telling him much of anything. 

 “Is this because of me?” Lance asks, mostly to himself. He doesn’t expect Keith to hear, almost rewinds when he sees the way Keith perks up. But a hand pulls his wrist down, gently, and Lance can’t back out of that. 

  “No,” Keith says, “it’s not. You came back for good, and that’s what you’ve been doing.” Those kinds of confessions have always been hard for Keith, so Lance curls his fingers between Keith’s before letting them return to the steering wheel. Lance can hear the skid of the tires, looks to see the skies darken. They’re close, so close, if God could give them this, Lance knows he’ll pay it back tenfold. He’s not sure if Keith can hear him slip into prayer, but it’s silent other than the car engine and the rain sliding against surfaces. Lance thinks, maybe this can work, Lance and Keith, back to back, facing the world and  _ winning _ . Maybe, maybe, if Lance gets that privilege. 

 Keith pulls in, and it’s all rush from there. Keith leads the way, out of the truck, up the first steps, first hill. Lance thinks it’s getting darker, the storm can’t be coming this soon it  _ can’t be _ . Lance is walking, climbing,  the world darkens around him and swallows him whole. Not a voice to be heard trying to call him back.

 Lance wakes up in the classroom. As if it’s a weekday afternoon, he can almost hear the chatter and the birds and the blood dripping. The blood? Lance blinks, once, twice, thrice, almost four times before he knows he’s seeing blood. Everywhere, without the cut limbs to go with it. Lance gets up, and he wishes he knew what to do when he realizes he’s alone in the bloodied classroom. He takes a step forward, ignoring the squelch in his step, and hopes this all goes away. It doesn’t, and all he can do is take another step.

 That’s what he thinks until he sees him. Lance faces his photography teacher in a bloodied classroom, and in that moment he loses control. 


	6. cheers to the fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the sound advice (that i didn't ask for)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS THE END!!! holy cow this was my first voltron fic and i finished it. it's been wild and i've learned a lot thanks to all that read it and most of all velocesmells for her au <3 i hope you like this fic, if you do leave kudos and a comment and check my profile i write a LOT more stuff!! thanks so so much!!

Lance doesn't want to talk to him. He doesn't have to, because his body drags him elsewhere. When he tries to look for Alfor, only to see him turn to blood, leaking through the floorboards. He goes to Allura’s desk, almost as if he's looking for her. Instead, there's more blood, surrounding everything except the desk. He barely has to look down to see what’s etched on her desk. 

 “I should have died with them,” he repeats. On the other side of the window, there are birds outside, the grass is green like a slice of paradise, and it all wilts away. Lance hears the birds fall against the windows. Through the small clear spots amongst the red, the grass turns brown before sinking, sinking into the earth, into the storm.

 There he is again, in the eye of the storm, he can see the lighthouse, a figure he knows is Keith. The winds are too strong for him to reach towards him, the eye pulls him back to the debris he’s surrounded by. To the photographs, of him: with his family, in Altea, with Keith, miraculously intact before they disappear in an instant. 

 He’s in the classroom, paper floating down into his hands. He still sees remnants of the storm, he blinks them away. Lance looks down, and sees the contest poster for Everyday Heroes. The warmth of freshly printed paper hides the way it morphs in his hands, how the font and sentence structure rearrange into the letter informing him he won. Before he can think, the proper announcement transforms into only four words:

**CONGRATULATIONS, YOU’RE A WINNER!**

 

  He turns the horizontally stapled page, only to see himself. Well, a picture of himself, under a gray background. He’s smiling, in the suit he wore to San Francisco. Lance looks down to the wall of text, which for this occasion he can read perfectly. He still doesn’t know what occasion this is.  

 

**Lance** , whose last name requires a cross of the heart to even pronounce in this pamphlet, is the eighteen year old fool who entered something sentimental in our Everyday Heroes contest. Look at him go, thinking he’s all that! We don’t know if it’s what kids over there are like, or just a part of his personality, but it doesn’t matter to us. In the end, we’re more offended at his sheer audacity.  That he can save the world and everything his fickle heart decides to hold dear! Can’t he see he’s already lost? 

Lance tries to put it down, his grip is still right around it. It’s only when he tears it to pieces that it falls, blending into the blood on the floor. He hears a draining noise, watches the blood sink into the gaps of the floorboards he didn’t know existed. 

 He has to get out of here. Holy shit, holy shit, he has to get out of here. Whether it’s to the lighthouse or wherever, he has to wake up. If not through any mind energy, maybe he can just walk out the front door. It works in television, why not here? So that’s what Lance does, or at least tries to.

 Alfor is dressed for class, arms crossed, just like he looked that Monday. Lance turns to him, even though his mind keeps on saying  _ no _ but he feels his mouth stretch into a smile. He faces Alfor, who smiles back, Lance can still see the coldness in his eyes. 

 “Would you like to spend your life in my dark room? I’ll take good care of you. It’ll take your pain away,” his hand brushes Lance’s cheek, brushing hair back. Alfor looks like he’s seeing someone else in Lance, who that could be is left unsaid. Lance wants to run, walk, step, whatever it takes to get away. He’s still, he can feel himself smile even when he starts to speak.

  “Who care about others anyways? I’ve always been alone,” Lance reaches out to touch Alfor, but the man disappears the moment Lance tries to prove he’s real. The classroom is pristine as private school classrooms can be, and Lance takes his first step out. 

 He steps into the hallway of the boy’s dorm. The lights are off, the skies are dark from the absence of light from the windows. When he looks forward, he sees candlelight and remembers the concept of grief. 

 It’s a vigil, he can see it in the distance. The photo frames are in all black, functioning as a funeral on the corner of a block. He doesn’t need the reminder, he’s quiet in his footsteps. Lance knows when the grieve, he knows, he knows. It can be pristine white or spotless black and Lance knows they’re both spaces he has to grieve. 

 There are hymns he can hear, in a foreign language. But he can feel the pain in their voices, the stench of death and candlelight pulls Lance forward. He sees the vigil up close, sees the person in the photographs before he sees the person in front of him. Allura is the answer to both the questions he never got a chance to ask. 

 Photos from Coran’s album surround the vigil, and Allura in the flesh stands in the center. She smiles, like how she was in the rain, in the school, and Lance remember this is wrong for the nth time. Lance tries to reach out to her, and is relieved to find her solid under his fingers. He doesn’t grip tighter, unlike her father, she feels like a steady force. For now, that is. 

 “What are you doing here?” Lance asks. Allura’s wrist pulls away from the loose grip he had on her. Her smile is glazed over and worn down, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. There’s a part of him that knows he won’t be able to freeze the world around him. Not this time. 

“Don’t you see Lance? The flowers are always in season. See, they’re being watered right now!” Allura looks up at the sky, as if it’s on a cue, the water floods the dorms. He sees Allura turn to foam, the candles go out, and Lance is submerged. 

 Lance is a good swimmer, no one’s been able to deny it so far, so he knows it’s true. He can stay under for a while (his latest record was botched by noisy siblings), but the short breaths he takes keep on getting shorter as water seems to fill the building. There shouldn’t be currents, or tides, but there are. He wouldn’t be surprised if he saw catfish just having the time of their goddamn imaginary lives. Lance swims towards the shower room, because in any logical situation, a shower room’s probably a good place to check for flooding. As if any of this shit’s logical, but he’ll give himself the benefit of the doubt. 

 It’s fishing in a white tank and cargo shorts, humidity clinging to him like a second skin. He sees something shiny in the water and dives further until he can get it. It’s no catfish, or the secrets of the universe, but the key to room 218 might just be Lance’s ticket out of here. The  _ if there is any  _ is something he prefers to push back. 

 Even in this, the water is fresh and clear, and Lance expect chlorine to sting his eyes but it doesn’t. He thinks of Hunk and him, doing flips underwater and always keeping their eyes wide for the world around them. He thinks of Keith, slipping into the school swimming pool, treading water in the five foot section as if his life depended on it. Lance would like to go swimming with them one day, but Lance would like a lot of things one day. 

 It takes a bit of fiddling, too much water entering his lungs, and luck for Lance to open up room 218. He feels both looseness and dryness in his clothing, he’s not sure which surprises him more. Lance looks down, first to clothes he knows now belong to Shiro, then breathes. The water disappeared, as if it was never there in the first place. There isn’t even any water lodged in his throat. 

 “Proud veteran, didn’t you hear he was gonna receive a purple heart?”

 “Had the looks, heard he had the girl, shame about what happened. Good guy.”

 “But wasn’t he too occupied with that...disorder? Always too skittish.”

 “Parents got hell for it too, don’t think my marriage would’ve lasted through that. Or his other habits.”

  “Y’know, I think those are his clothes there.”

  “Who’s wearing them?”

  “Who’s the imposter?”

  “Who’s the imposter?”

A girl walks up to him, Lance can’t see her face. She doesn’t have a face. Her small hands give him a poster, a missing person’s poster. Wide eyes, he feels like she’d wear glasses if she had a face. He tries not to shiver too much at her touch, he might be afraid, but he also doesn’t want to hurt the kinda creepy dream children. 

 “If you’re an imposter,” she says, “who will find my family?”

Lance looks down at a poster with scribblings in various colors, markings on leads, the names  _ Matt _ and  _ Dad  _ _ Samuel.  _ Repetition, surrounding him until Lance feels himself shrinking, turning into someone else. 

 “What?” he asks, in Pidge’s voice. 

 “What?” Pidge’s voice responds, and Lance doesn’t think it’s an echo. So he leaves room 218, because he’s pretty sure whatever he’s looking for isn’t here. Pidge’s actual room might be a good start. It’s strange, being in a smaller form, he wishes he could make a joke about it, but he doesn’t find much humor in this situation.

_ “Took you long enough let me guess, you failed at flirting?” _

_ “Hey, can I just say you owe me before saying anything else?” _

_ “Well, um…you can say that girls do that. Use makeup. You know, because I’m a girl. Not your man or bro, but not your girl. But I am a girl, is this making any sense?” _

_ “Takashi Shirogane is the only link to my missing family.” _

_ “Lance? If it’s a shitty meme, can it wait?” _

_ “My name is Katie Holt…” _

 The dialogue blends into itself in time, but her voice stays clear. It always has been, if Lance really wants to analyze it. He tries to focus on the qualities of her voice rather than the playback, the bits of distortion that gradually get longer and longer. It doesn’t take long for him to get to Pidge’s room. He opens the door, and takes two steps in. 

 Lance notices two things: one is the fact he’s himself again, the other is what he’s surrounded by. He only took polaroids for the sentimentality, so it doesn’t take him much time to connect the dots and see these are all pictures he took. Of his family, of things in Altea, of his friends. Mostly Hunk, a few people from school, some pictures of Pidge tinkering away, and Keith. It feels strangely voyeuristic looking at his own memories. Photos he remembers and doesn’t remember taking, pictures of his family on the ceiling and around his feet in a circle. Everything else claims the walls, the window, covers the traces of Pidge he sees in this room. With things like this, Lance knows it won’t last. Not when he looks closer and realizes these aren’t just about what he took, these photos are all what he  _ lost _ . Lance shuts the door to Pidge’s room behind him. He sees a photo tucked in under the doorway, and he picks it up against his better judgment.

 It’s his contest photo. Him, surrounded by photos once again, facing away from the camera. Lance worked his ass off on the setup, can almost feel the nostalgia about all the hard work he put in. Almost. He feels the movement under his nails before he sees it in the picture. He, the version of Lance in the photo, turns his head around before his body. Lance sees himself smile before he hears the voice. 

_ “What are you waiting for, don’tcha have work to do? Always useless, I can’t believe we’re the same person.”  _

 Lance tears the photo up, but not before seeing the grin on his own face. Not before he hears and thinks and wants to curl up again and let himself rest. But he can’t rest. Though, if that’s what his mind needs, why not go over to his room? Could be the direction this is going in,  _ has  _ to be. Lance’s options are narrowing and twisting themselves, but he’s tired of this game. This can’t be (it is) the truth. 

  His room isn’t far from Pidge’s, so he’s digging out for keys he didn’t realize he had and unlocking the door. He expect something horrifying, or something peaceful. It’s about 50/50 right now, and he’s rolling as soon as he enters his room.  _ One, two, three four,  _ and he’s gone. 

  Lance blinks a few times. He tries to keep track, he really does, but reality is already way out of his grip. It probably isn’t  _ so  _ bad if he lets another thing go while he’s at it. Lance is in the hallway again, right along Alfor’s class. He takes a step forward while seeing others move backwards, and everything else floods his senses.

 Everything is backwards. The people, the words. Words he never paid much attention to, but even then he could tell. He moves slowly across the halls, feeling the distortion settle inside him. Lance doesn’t want it to. There’s a shape he sees. He can’t tell if it’s a cat or a dog, which is a weird thing not to tell. He does know that it’s semi transparent, and Lance knows enough about life to know that’s a spirit. He also knows ghosts and spirits are usually not to be trusted, even in distorted dream spaces. But he follows it a few moments the blue butterfly joins it, because that’s what started it all. He goes through the hallways, trying to pretend his surroundings are white noise, doesn’t think much about where they’re going until they’re partway there. 

 He knows they’re going to the bathroom when he thinks of Keith. It’s just an extra reminder that he needs to get out of here. Lance opens the door to the bathroom, he can barely get to the sink without his surroundings disappearing once again. 

 Lance is in a maze, he can barely see the white walls around him, but the moving lights help. He feels something bumpy on the wall, a frame, and knows that he’s in the gallery. But there’s no cheese and crackers in sight, just him, and the lights. Lance walks straight ahead. 

 Someone’s looking for him. Lance can feel it. The moving light was a flashlight, he leans a little closer to see if the person’s speaking. 

 “This is for the greater good,” the voice says, “for the dark room, for the last of the Alteans…” Lance can’t see himself right now, but he wants to crumple to the ground. But he won’t, he’s just gotta get past Alfor. But which one? 

 They’re clones, walking around the halls of the gallery with flashlights, calling for him. He hears the  _ come out come out wherever you are  _ and keeps his hands steady to rewind. He’ll need it, there’s no denying that. 

 “You know, the Dark Room is the only place for me, and you know it’s the only place for you..”

 Lance sees one about to shine his light, Lance rewinds and runs to the right. Another’s about to see him, he rewinds, taking cover and rewinding at even a hint of light. He can feel his nose bleeding, but now’s not the time for that. He has to escape, he has to. 

 “Come out, come out. The only chance you’ll get is with me…”

 Lance doesn’t know how many he’s managed to avoid. He only knows he’s gone past them when he sees a statue. It’s rotating, a light attached, and Lance looks around to find a way to get past it. He’s found cover, he’ll just have to get to different cover everytime the light came.

 Cover comes in the form of photographs by the time he gets to the statue. A photograph of him. He looks to his left. One of Allura, cross flying off her neck, vacant eyes.

 His face dripped with sweat and blood, and he ran as fast as he could. He gets caught running to the left towards the Allura picture. Lance goes to the left again, only to see Shiro, tied up angry look in his eyes, like he’s been through hell but knows what to do this time.

 “Attention!” a voice, Iverson’s voice is coming from the statue. 

  “Now,” Iverson says, “I regret to announce a fellow student, Lance, has died--”

The light hits Lance when he’s going towards another picture of Allura, tied and gagged. He rewinds, wonders if the trail of blood from his nose will be what gives him away. If only he could rewind that too. 

 “--under tragic circumstances that I will investigate once I unload a few rounds.” Lance goes to another picture, of him tied up unconscious in the dark room. His head continues to pound, but he can’t lose focus. 

 “Lance!” Iverson says when the light hits him. Lance rewinds to take cover behind another large scale photograph. Passed out girls, Lance feels sick to his stomach. 

 “Will Lance please come to the Dark Room ASAP?” Iverson asks.

  “ _ Hell no,”  _ Lance thinks. 

__ “I repeat, to the Dark Room,  _ now! _ ” Lance wants to scream out an answer, he bites his lip instead. He thinks he hears a sigh, the reload of a gun, and screams. Lance looks at the statue.

__ Iverson. Iverson, who’s shooting Pidge, then Hunk. Over and over and over again. Lance sees the locker room, he can save the real versions of them. If this is false, he hopes it is. 

__ Lance goes behind the lockers, red and blue, like the pool, like swimming and Keith. 

__ “Lance...where are you now? Don’t you wanna play a game?” it’s Pidge, carrying a flashlight. Her voice is too frantic, he hears her slam something against the locker in an attempt to scare him.

“...We can’t accommodate someone like that, Kogane will have to learn for himself…” a voice says.

  “Let’s go home together,” Pidge says, “we can, right? All you have to do is give up.” Lance gets past the flashlight, rewinds for better timing, does it again. 

  “You know, maybe if you weren’t here my son would be alive,” it’s Shirogane. Lance recognizes the voice. A flashlight shines his way, Lance rewinds again. 

  “Now,” Lance hears Thace, “I might be a lot of things. But at least I don’t cheat my friends out of life. I just use drugs, you got high without them. What does that say about you?”

 Thace laughs, “What, did you really think Gunderson would help you? That anyone would help you? You know they hate you, if they had your powers, maybe they wouldn’t be such  _ fuck ups _ .”

 “Didn’t I tell you,” Sendak says, “you can’t defeat us. You can’t fix anything.”

 Thace laughs again and again and again, “You’re gonna die here, and it’s not gonna be an accident.”

 “You know, maybe if you weren’t here my son would be alive.”

 “You’re gonna die here, and it’s not gonna be an accident.”

 “Didn't I tell you?” Iverson’s voice, abrasive as usual, “Go to the Dark Room  _ now!” _

  “ _ Now! _ ”

  “ _ Now! _ ”

 Lance rushes behind another set of lockers and peeks out to see the junkyard. If there’s anything he needs right now, it’s a change of scenery. 

 “According to my reports,” Coran says, “you’ve been stealing, fraternizing with Allura, and now you let my one love die? Boy when I get my hands on you, you’re going to  _ wish  _ I’d cut you open.”

 “Coran was always so optimistic, don’t you agree Lance? Shiro was the piece I needed, if only Thace didn’t botch it…” Alfor again. Lance rewinds so he’s facing away before looking at the bottles. Great. Lance takes the bottle. He rewinds again. 

 “Lance,” Keith says, “sit down.” Lance sees another bottle and takes it. He tries to ignore Keith’s voice. 

 “You should have  _ heard  _ Keith Lance,” Thace says, “he had a lot to say when you weren’t around.”

 “ _ Lance, _ ” rewind. Another bottle.

 “ _ Lance! _ ” rewind. Another bottle. 

  “It was  _ so fucking funny  _ when you dug up Shiro’s body! Boo hoo, boo hoo! No one gave a shit about him anyways!” 

  “Shiro knew his way around things, didn’t he?” Lance picks up another bottle. 

When he gets to the lineup, places them, his body takes a picture before his mind reminds him of other things. Lance hears the firing of a gun, shells, and the bottles breaking in front of him.

There are shells. Not seashells, but the shells after the gunfire. Lance feels like he’s going to hurl just thinking about where those shells came from. He tries not to think of faces, he fails. But he keeps on moving, if they lead him away, maybe he can escape, get satisfaction, whatever he needs. Lance only looks up when he sees light, ready to rewind again and get it right. He doesn’t have to.

 The lighthouse is there, it’s the only place that’s safe. If he’s there, he can wake up, fix everything. He will, he will. Lance sees the bottles and posters that surround him, and has a feeling he’s coming back to reality. He sees the bench, the one he and Keith sat on, when he told him the storm was coming. Lance doesn’t run, something tells him to still be careful, but he walks quickly.

 The lighthouse reminds him of peace, of fixing and nostalgia and everything Lance needs right now. He doesn’t want to move, first in fear that if he does something will happen, then in the comfort of it all. But that all only lasts what feels like a few minutes, and Lance knows he has to get up. Keep moving towards something that will get him back into reality.

 He can’t get up. Lance tries, boy does he try, but all he can do is wait. It’s then when he sees the dome of glass surrounding him, and snow falling just how it did on Monday afternoon. Except there’s no Keith with anger and apathy, no version of himself that didn’t have a clue. It’s Lance, alone, and he’d be happy to say it doesn’t last under any other circumstances. Then, he remembers.

 Keith and Lance cooking, Keith is ever so focused on eggs, Lance is secretly helping while making a show of being annoying. The Koganes are asleep, but they’re going to adopt Keith. There’s breakfast brought by Keith, a younger Lance joins. Lance stays.There’s laughter and the keys jingle. They’re going to drive away, they’re going to get into an accident. Lance had no choice but to let them. He sees younger him, looking straight at the snowglobe he’s trapped in. Lance knows the choice he’s about to make, he shuts his eyes until he goes forward. 

 Keith is smoking, Lance always wants to say it’s a nasty habit but never got the chance to. Keith looks down at his phone, then up at...Lance? It’s him, but he’s in that blue hoodie and smiling. Lance is still on the bench, and Lance walks away as soon as Keith reaches out. He wants to say something, he can’t say something because  _ she’s in the hospital he has to hurry he has to say goodbye,  _ Lance gets up. The version of him in a blue hoodie disappears, and he barely sees a snowglobe turn into the third floor of a hospital in an instant. 

 She’s dead. He knows she’s dead because he’s always too late. Lance is thirteen again and nothing he does can bring her back, can give him the privilege of seeing her eyes filled with life. His family, and Hunk hold him. Whispering words in his ears he never remembers and doesn’t register because Lance doesn’t just grieve. He  _ grieves.  _

 Lance hears laughter, and the setting doesn’t change. She’s dead, no life support no breath in sight and everyone is  _ laughing _ . They merge into one, Lance tries to cover his eyes but someone has a tight grip on his wrists. He doesn’t want to recognize the voices, or look at the faces. This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real. It isn’t it can’t be this isn’t it this isn’t what it was this isn’t his memory. 

 “This is  _ your  _ dark room now,” his brother says.

 “This is  _ your  _ dark room now,” his older sister says.

 “This is  _ your  _ dark room now,” his younger sisters say, a year apart but always in sync.

 “This is  _ your  _ dark room now,” his parents say, he notices the change in pitch. Deeper, deeper, as if it’s waiting for someone else.

 His abuela opens her eyes, “This is  _ your  _ dark room now, and it’s the only place you’ll return to.” Lance screams, he knows there are tears coming and he can’t force them to stop. If it was this one time, it might be bearable (he’s lying), but they repeat over and over and over again. From his uncles to his second cousins. Suffocating in a way family never should be. The one comfort he has is that he can’t make out Hunk’s voice among the repetitions. 

 “This is  _ your  _ dark room now, don’t you know you were always too much for others?”

 “This is  _ your  _ dark room now, you never did a damn thing right, why not do this?”

 “This is  _ your  _ dark room now, you wanted to be alone, here’s your opportunity.”

 “This is  _ your  _ dark room now, what’s the matter? This is what’s best, we would know.”

  “This is  _ your  _ dark room now, and it’s the only place you’ll return to.” 

  “This is  _ your  _ dark room now, it’s your punishment for leaving me behind,” Lance knows this voice. He turns his head, praying for it not to be true. It’s barely heard amongst the repetitions, but with this, it might come up. He hopes and hopes it doesn’t. Lance sees lips moving, hears the voice before he recognizes the words.

   “This is  _ your  _ dark room now, it’s your punishment for leaving me behind,” Hunk says. Lance tries to break free, the grips he barely felt tighten the moment he makes too much movement. Lance looks at Hunk and sees everything he’s ever feared happening, and he sinks, sinks, sinks below.   

“You abandoned him, now you abandoned me? What kind of friend are you, can’t even remember what’s  _ really  _ important,” Hunk says, and Lance tries to convince himself it isn’t real. There’s no way to stop this dark, he’s still sinking, he can barely breathe. Then, Lance is tied up again.

 Alfor is taking photographs again, but Lance isn’t the subject this time. He doesn’t remember how many times he’s blinked, which feels more strange than it actually is. It isn’t that strange either? Not to be aware, to be bothered by not being aware. He can’t stop thinking, so he blinks. Once, twice, thrice, breathe. Lance isn’t the subject this time, Keith is. 

 Keith, in the same ensemble as the day he died ( _ but which time  _ echoes in his mind, but Lance saved him all the other times. He’s done it again, he’ll do it again, again, again). Lance sees the bullet necklace before he sees Keith’s face. 

 He knows the smile isn’t right. No, no, no, it  _ can’t  _ be right, it’s crooked on the wrong side. He’s too cruel, those eyes aren’t Keith’s. There’s no way they could be. None of Lance’s thoughts stop Keith from posing for the camera, in a way Lance wants to think is very un Keith-like, but how well does Lance really know Keith? How much of what they had was real, and how much was Lance projecting what he wanted them to be? Keith gives a gesture that seems like a  _ come hither _ , Lance strains in his restraints. Alfor disappears. 

 Hunk is wearing the suit and tie he wore for junior prom, Lance had said gold was his color, to own it. He’d asked Shay to prom, “platonically”, but no less awkwardly. He was fidgeting, hair slicked with gel, asking if he looked okay. Lance straightened him up, and when people asked what he was doing during junior prom, he always said he never planned on it. At home, he worked on the portfolio that would bring him back to Altea. Among the chaos of the house, Lance found something he was looking for. Whe Hunk came back, his tie was rumpled and he had the widest grin on his face while helping Lance sort through photographs. Hunk is in that suit again, and he remains standing, leaning all loose limbed towards Keith. 

 “Would he be jealous?” Keith asks, he peeks over and meets Lance’s eyes as if he’s an alien. Lance can almost feel the rumble of Hunk’s laugh, it shouldn’t be used here. Never, never, never. 

 “Him?” Hunk asks, “Known him forever, he probably gets off on it.” Lance keeps his eyes open, against all better judgment, when Hunk leans further down to kiss Keith. They turn back to him, smiling with empty eyes, and Hunk disappears. 

 Keith, as Lance has discovered, is never alone for long. He leans back on the couch, making himself smaller. Lance remembers Keith being good at hiding. If this counts of hiding, it’s a sick fucking joke. He sees the jacket before Thace (junior seems strangely important in this context), wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulders. 

 “Would I come and visit him?” Keith asks, “Is that what you’re asking me to do?”

 “I am,” Thace says, “I think he could use the company.” Keith nods, and Thace fades away before he fully walks away. For the first time in a while Lance doesn’t actually want to look at Keith. He hears rustling, footsteps, a hot finger curving under his chin before pulling him up.

 “Hey,” Keith’s eyes are still so cold, “look at me.” Lance shakes his head before looking down, and Keith forces it back up again. Lance sees Keith, really sees him, jacket off along with his beanie.

  “I’m not going to,” Lance says, “I want to get out of here.” It takes all his bravery, and in the end it barely matters, Keith moves his head up, and as if there’s a spell, it stays there. Keith takes a step back, as if to admire his handiwork before peeling off his shirt. Gradual, gradually taking off his clothes and Lance doesn’t know  _ why _ . Is this Keith in his mind, is this a nightmare, he doesn’t know he can’t tell. The dark room is the same, this could be another reality. Lance has to raise his arm, he can’t rewind. So he watches, and watches as Keith walks back towards him again. 

  “Come on Lance, won’t you be a voyeur? Don’t think I haven’t seen you watching, why not take a selfie first?” Keith shucks off his pants, which might seem more intimate in another setting, but all it does it make Lance feel sick. He hates his mind for thinking this, hates, hates, hates the way this is all happening and he can’t get out. Lance looks at Keith with all the desperation in the world, and Keith just smiles in response.

 “Looks like I won this time,” Keith leans in as if to kiss him, and before Lance knows it a third person comes into view. Pidge, wearing her oversized cargo shorts and her hoodie, nothing about her feels real. Though that could be because the last time he saw her was in the dress and wig and about to die and dead and alive. Lance can’t keep track. But there she is, smiling with the same blank, cold, eyes. Lance can’t look away.

 “Guess he wasn’t your boyfriend after all,” Pidge laughs at the last part, as if this is all a joke to her. It might be. She always knew more, it could mean she was indulging him, it probably has. Pidge taps Keith’s shoulder before grasping his arms and standing on her toes to kiss him. Lance doesn’t see if it connects, instead he sees another Keith, strapped up to life support. He looks down to avoid contact only to see a letter wide open on his lap. 

_ Lance, _

 

_ It’s always been your fault Lance. You take everything good from me just by being alive, I wish I could have done what you did to me.  It’s always been your fault Lance. You take everything good from me just by being alive, I wish I could have done what you did to me. It’s always been your fault Lance. You take everything good from me just by being alive, I wish I could have done what you did to me. It’s always been your fault Lance. You take everything good from me just by being alive, I wish I could have done what you did to me. It’s always been your fault Lance. You take everything good from me just by being alive, I wish I could have done what you did to me. _

_  Why can’t you die instead of me? _

 

_ Keith _

 

 Lance looks up for a sign, a revival switch, anything he can possibly see to get out. There’s nothing, not even a Keith on life support. Lance hears the jingle of bullets clinking together, and the Keith he knows best stands in front of him, fully dressed and no longer smiling. 

 “You must have brought your bad luck from the bayou,  _ you  _ caused this storm. You never should have come back. I wish I never met you in the first place,” Keith says. Lance’s world goes dark again after that, dark in the dark room. He lets himself breathe, smells chemical cleaner and breakfast sausage, and opens his eyes.

 To put it simply, Lance is in the Five Lions bathroom. He faces himself in the mirror in his own skin and his own clothes. He takes a second to sigh in relief before walking towards the door. Lance sees the digicode, he hopes it’s the last one, because he’s really getting tired of these things. It is not the last four number code he sees, the moment he puts in a random code to test it, he’s surrounded by numbers.

 Lance vaguely recognizes them as codes he’s put in, phone numbers, locker combinations. Shit. Maybe this is another hallucination. Of course, he paces, tries to eliminate which ones are too long, too short. He stops remembering partway through, but maybe he should splash some water on his face. Try to wake up, he doesn’t know what kind of waking up he’s looking for anymore. 

 Then he sees it.  _ 0311 _ , the only one that shows up in the mirror. Lance repeats it in his mind  _ 0311, 0311, 0311 _ . He puts it in, and the door opens. Lance opens the door, and for once, ends up where he expected. The Five Lions has the same lighting, there were people, coffee, the smell of cleaner and breakfast sausage. Something’s wrong. The crowd is still.  Everyone is in the diner, not moving, but they do speak.

 “Please don’t kill us Lance,” one says.

 “Don’t kill us Lance,” another says.

 “You can’t kill us.”

 “I’m never going to say goodbye to them Lance.”

 “What about Takashi?”

 “What about my son?”

 “Lover?”

 “I was about to start anew…”

 “I thought we were on the same team, didn’t you Lance?”

 “Now you’re gonna take me away from them.”

 “I wanted to see my daughter’s game!”

 “Please don’t kill us Lance.”

 “Don’t kill us Lance.”

Lance walks to the end of the diner, only to see himself. In the outfit he wore at the diner, eating French Toast as if nothing’s wrong. When he’s seen, the other version of him smiles before gesturing at Lance to sit down. Lance shakes his head in response.

 “Come on man, we got a lot to talk about,” the other him says. Lance remains standing.

 “So you know you’re a piece of shit right?” the other him laughs, “I’m one of the Lances you left behind while you fucked with time.”

 “Might be a piece of shit, but I’m a piece of shit who needs to get out of here, wanna do me or  _ you  _ a favor?” Lance tries to smile, but he feels how forced it is. 

 “You thought you could control me too?” the other Lance gives a dry laugh, “You tried to control everyone else too, didn’t you? Manipulate time?”

  “I wanted to save people,” Lance says.

  “Do you  _ really  _ believe this shit?” The other Lance shakes his head, “You just wanted to be loved.”

  “And what’s wrong with  _ that? _ ” Lance asks.

  “You tricked them into it, into giving a shit and convincing them you do too!” the other Lance’s voice is raised in that moment, before lowering again, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

  “I’ve always cared about people!”  _ Too much for too long,  _ Lance thinks. 

  “ _ Sure _ ,” the other him makes a long, slow drawl, “you just wanted a shortcut because you can’t connect to people, not really. So you use time for you and against them.”

  “I have friends,” Lance says, he believes it less and less these days. 

  “The only thing you have is your goddamn hypocrisy,” the other him shakes his head, “you’ve only left death and suffering.”

  “Not my fault asshole,” Lance tries to sound like he has more pride than he actually has. 

  “So what about what  _ was  _ your fault? Oh, wait, you wasted every good thing that happened over that rat Keith. You think he’s worth all that?” Lance tightens his fists, the other him just smiles.

  “Aren’t we all?” Lance believes that, the other him clearly doesn’t.

  “You’re so full of shit, suddenly acting all selfless, what a shame you pissed it away on high school,” the  _ specifically a fucking week  _ goes unsaid.

 “Keith’s better at guilt tripping than you are, and he doesn’t do it,” Lance remembers how Keith broke down and lashed out. Lance wants to help him, he has to get out of here.

 “Because he’s a fucking trainwreck who’ll never see you, don’t act like you’re special. And if by some chance you are, you’re gonna end up just like Shiro.” The body in the junkyard, scarred and dug up. The records, Lance knows Shiro by word of mouth, but he feels the shiver down his spine.

 “Shut up. You don’t scare me.” Lance narrows his eyes, it doesn’t faze the other him.

  “Who’s the one you really should be worried about? Me, Alfor, or  _ him?  _ Do you really think he values you? That he won’t hurt you the moment you turn your back? You’re so stupid, at least I could fake it. In fact, he’s probably the cause--” Lance is about to say something, something to  _ stop  _ this but the door slams open and he turns around in response. 

 The diner is still, and Lance hears footsteps. Keith. 

  “Ohhh,” the other him laughs, “speak of the  _ devil _ .” Keith walks through the hall of the diner, his eyes meet Lance’s. Lance almost wants to look away, he doesn’t look away. This feels important, though his perception about that could be completely ruined. Keith slides into the other side of the booth.

 “Hey, fake, get out. You don’t fuck with Lance’s head. You’re not my partner or my friend,” it’s simple and blunt and too Keith for its own good. Lance  _ adores  _ it.

 “Let’s go on a trip or something, I won’t judge you,” Keith turns to Lance.

 “You sure?” Lance asks.

 “Why wouldn’t I be?” Keith doesn’t understand. Or maybe he does, and just knows the way. So Keith leads the way, and Lance is okay with following. They’ll find a way, they’ll find a way. They get into Keith’s truck, Lance makes sure they’re both bucked in. Keith puts the keys in the ignition, the truck out of park, and drives. 

 “After five years you’re still you, it’s good you are. Welcome back.” Keith says. He smiles, small and soft. Lance doesn’t know what to do about it. 

__ _ “Yeah, sure, because I had a fighting chance against a boy from the bayou.” Keith and Lance, watching the ocean. They don’t know the end is coming, they don’t care yet.  _

_  “Fight me asshole,” Lance glares and crosses his arms. _

_  Keith reciprocates the gesture, “You’re acting like you can win?” _

_  “Wanna test that theory?” Lance asks, it’s all the gusto without any ill intentions. And they test it. Play fighting like they’re children again on the floor of Lance’s dorm. Lance doesn’t remember what afternoon it is, but it makes him so, so, happy.  _

_ “Please--” Lance poses-- “call me Great Savior, the master of time.” _

_ Keith’s expression turns from relieved gratitude to annoyance, “Rewind so I can get hit by the train, I never want to hear your voice again.” _

_   “I mean, not just for the powers, but like. I don’t think I could have done all this with anyone but you. I’m not gonna say it again, but you can be pretty cool.” Lance knows it’s awkward, because Keith hasn’t been good at compliments since they first met. But he used to look away when he tried to muster the words, but he looks Lance in the eye. It’s an overwhelming sight. _

_  “Hey,” Lance chuckles, mostly to hide how sappy he feels, “I’m glad you’re my partner in crime. And that you cradled me in your arms, and that I saw you again and stuff.” He turns to see Keith, with his small Keith smile. Lance’s smile is small to match Keith’s, but with no less feeling. _

_  Lance does exactly that without thinking, it’s a brief press, they both stink of chlorine and he can feel Keith gasp a little in his mouth before letting go. Lance is pretty sure he’s imagining stars in Keith’s eyes, and he really can’t look at him right now, he’d want to kiss him again. _

_   “Put this together at my place?” Keith asks, barely able to contain his excitement. Lance remembers the old VHS tapes of the X-Files. Of course, only conspiracy nuts like that and go this far in investigating. _

_ “You look happy,” Lance says, “but yeah, let's get this shit figured out.” _

_   “Are you, like, sure because everything happened and I’d totally wait and like you know-- mmph .” Well, that’s one way of shutting Lance up. Keith tastes like pool water and nicotine, he bites so hard Lance bleeds and Lance wouldn’t have it any other way. _

_  “Is this because of me?” Lance asks, mostly to himself. He doesn’t expect Keith to hear, almost rewinds when he sees the way Keith perks up. But a hand pulls his wrist down, gently, and Lance can’t back out of that. _

_  “No,” Keith says, “it’s not. You came back for good, and that’s what you’ve been doing.” Those kinds of confessions have always been hard for Keith, so Lance curls his fingers between Keith’s before letting them return to the steering wheel. _

 Lance wakes up. Lance wakes up, feels the rain hit his face, hears the storm roaring. Keith is right beside him, holding him steady.  The storm is edging closer, and he is with Keith at the end of it all. 

“ _ Lance!  _ Don’t do that shit again, are you okay?” Keith is all concerned, wide eyes. Lance really doesn’t deserve him.

“It was my fault, the powers, the… everything,” Lance can barely hear himself speak. Keith only holds him tighter.

“Then you’re the only one who can make things right,” Keith digs something out and hands it to Lance. Lance looks down only to see the photograph, he looks at Keith again.

“No...  _ no _ . Not you, I can’t, I can’t do this!” Lance jolts up. Keith stands with him, holding him up. 

“Yes you can. You’ve made a lot possible for me, you just need to set it back to the way it was,” Lance takes a step back, then two steps forward, shaking his head. He can feel himself shaking, crying. Keith is still serious, always so serious and sacrificing. 

“Didn’t you say you wanted this place gone, we can...we can figure this out! I’m sure everyone is safe I’m sure I’m…” Lance trails off when he sees the look on Keith’s face, like he’s grieving for Lance’s sake. He doesn’t know what to do with that, not at all. 

__ Lance feels the smack of Keith’s hands around his face, “Lance. You’re the only one that can. You always wanted to be the hero, right? This is your chance.” Keith smiles briefly, but it falls apart the moment Lance whispers another  _ no.  _

“Don’t act like your death is an act of justice, it’s just death. I don’t want to lose you I can’t lose you,” Lance feels himself loose the strength in his legs, and Keith pulls him up again. Like he always has, and Lance wants him to do so for the rest of their lives. 

“Well you’re gonna have to. And you damn well better remember me Lance, because I love you. I’m never gonna regret a thing we did together, so you do what’s right, for everyone, for me,” Keith tries to crack a smile. Lance, for one, is having none of it. He wants to cry and fall apart and break down all at once. He stays standing, because he needs to figure out what to do.  

 “God asshole, had to try and get the last word,” Lance reaches for Keith, and Keith connects their lips. It’s brief, they both probably taste like rain and blood, if the rain could wash this all away, Lance could be happy. But Lance  _ can  _ be happy. He’s been told he can’t have his cake and eat it too, he can see solutions rise and fall in his mind and he knows what he has to do. He knows what he’ll do. 

“Well I love you, and this shit about sacrifice? Not bending down to that.” he takes a look at the photo, and before Keith can say a word, rewinds one more time. Lance can hear Keith’s voice the  _ what are you doings  _ and  _ you have to let me go.  _ Over and over and over, distorting until Lance is back again. 

 There’s a blue butterfly on the bucket of the bathroom. It’s vibrant, reminds Lance of everything he hasn’t experienced yet. On a Monday afternoon, Lance has to change fate or align it to what he wants. Keith, everyone left him choices. Two choices were all that was offered to him, but it isn’t all he’s got. On a Monday afternoon, Lance takes a photograph, it all unfolds from there. 

**Author's Note:**

> as you can see im changing things up for a few reasons, more will be revealed later B)) if you see any formatting/grammar mistakes please point them out!!! or just comment regularly thats neat.


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